


Stand By Me

by andcontemplation



Series: Time in a Bottle [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 1960s, Abusive Lonnie Byers, American Politics, And some comedy too, Angst and Romance, Basically Riverdale in Hawkins, Canon Rewrite, Easter Eggs, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Graduation, Gross Displays of Toxic Masculinity, High School, High School Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Inspired by Grease, Inspired by Music, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Lonnie Byers Being an Asshole, Period Typical Attitudes, Post-Graduation, Prequel, Prom, Slurs, Sorry Not Sorry, Spotify Playlist (see notes), Swearing, Teenage Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, There's A Tag For That, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Smoking, Vietnam War, Young Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, non-con touching/groping, yep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2020-07-24 00:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20017102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andcontemplation/pseuds/andcontemplation
Summary: Hawkins, Indiana. 1965. Seventeen-year-old Joyce and Jim grew up across the street from each other, practically inseparable since they were kids. That is, until Lonnie Byers came along senior year of high school. With Prom and Graduation looming, Hopper finds himself head over heels for Joyce, just when he can't have her. She's completely oblivious, focused on her future. Little do they know that one hot summer is about to turn their whole world upside down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a soundtrack playlist on Spotify! [Check it out and follow here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4Oppk4Rkm1I2drveHS91El) :) New songs will be added with each chapter.
> 
> This is the first (chronological) fic in my series, [Time in a Bottle](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1372849), which details Joyce and Hopper's relationship over the twenty years prior to the events in the series. It's mostly canon, but it will veer off into some divergence from time to time. See the notes for the series for details.
> 
> I've tried to keep the story as close to the time-period as possible, including heavy use of slang and a few old fashioned terms so if something doesn't make sense, feel free to ask me in the comments or on [my tumblr](https://andcontemplation.tumblr.com/ask%22) and I'll be happy to explain :)

**It was a Friday morning in late May, and Hawkins High was buzzing.** Another school year was almost over, and for the senior class of 1965, they were two weeks away from staring down the great unknown and what was promised to be the best summer of their lives. Fourteen days, a handful of final exams and a graduation ceremony was all there was left between them and Freedom with a capital F.

The teachers had long given up on keeping the students in line. Teens were running wild throughout school, cleaning out their lockers early. Overflowing garbage cans lined the hallway while crumpled flyers for Prom ’65, old notebooks and loose-leaf littered the floor as the students turned the first break of the day into a hall party.

Joyce Horowitz wasn’t cleaning out her locker just yet, but she was tearing it apart all the same, looking for the one textbook she needed to finish her Home Economics project. It was in there somewhere, but she didn’t know how to begin sorting through a year’s worth of mess. Pondering if it was possible a book eating portal to another dimension had opened up at the back of her locker, she looked over just in time to see her friend making a grand entrance that morning.

Karen Dawson strutted down the hall of Hawkin’s High like Jean Shrimpton on the catwalk, headed straight for Joyce — on a mission. Keeping the tiny brunette in her sights, she sashayed passed a group of sophomores who could barely keep their jaws from dropping. Karen knew she had that effect on the younger men and was putting on a show for them today.

Joyce smirked, knowing that whatever Karen was about to say, it was going to be good.

“What’s the word, little bird?” she asked as Karen got within earshot.

The blonde gasped and giggled, unable to contain herself anymore, holding up her left hand to reveal the truth before she could get the words out. “Ted asked me to marry him! Joyce, I’m getting married!!” She squealed in delight at the chance to say the words aloud to her best friend, which meant it was now official.

“Get out! That’s not real,” Joyce gasped and grabbed at Karen’s hand, examining the diamond perched atop perfectly manicured fingers. “Oh my god,” she bit her lip. “ _That’s real!_ ”

“Remember how I told you he was taking me to the country club last night?” Karen asked. 

Joyce nodded — it was all Karen had talked about for the last week. She continued to dig around in her locker while her friend went on, describing her night. 

“Well we got there, and there was a table with candles set up on the veranda. We had our own private waiter. Ted had oysters and clams casino ordered in from Maine for appetizers, a filet mignon for the main course, and tiramisu for dessert”, Karen bragged, pausing for dramatic effect, watching Joyce’s face for a reaction. When there was none, she continued.

“He was saying all these wonderful things like maybe we’d take a trip to France in the fall if the firm could give him the time off. Then he asked me where I always wanted to go on a honeymoon. Of course, I told him Hawaii—”

“ _Meanwhile, back at the ranch_ …” Joyce raised an eyebrow, trying to prompt Karen to get to the good part. 

“And, then he ordered us a bottle of really expensive champagne, dropped down on one knee, and I said _YES_!” She flashed the ring again at Joyce, making sure the freshmen girls next to them could hear and see everything too. A chorus of “oohs” sounded behind Joyce so she knew they must have gotten a good look.

“Jesus, Karen. That’s so romantic, I could die,” Joyce deadpanned, only half-joking, knowing that it was driving Karen wild that she wasn’t acting more excited about this.

Karen shoved Joyce playfully, pushing her out of the way to get to her locker. “I’m in love, Joyce. You’ll understand when it happens to you,” she sniffed at her lackluster friend.

“I’m sure.” Joyce rolled her eyes. 

She was happy for her friend. Joyce could see how in love Karen was, there was no denying that. But part of her was a little disappointed at how fast this was all happening. The engagement meant that soon, she would be giving up her best girlfriend to the domestic life. The summer road trip they had planned would be going on the back burner, indefinitely now.

Another part of her was sad because she wanted to be where Karen was; happy, in love. Growing up, Joyce had been first hand witness to the path her own Ma had chosen, and she no desire to follow her down that lonely, single-mother road.

All Joyce secretly wanted was what Karen had laid out for her — the handsome, devoted husband. The house with the white picket fence, and a gaggle of kids. She couldn’t help but be a little jealous of Karen’s fairytale ending with her prince charming: the tall, dark and handsome Ted Wheeler. Recently promoted to Junior Analyst at the accounting firm in Hawkins, he was both financially secure and in the process of ‘settling down’. Karen and Ted had met at their parents country club around Christmas and had only been dating for a few months, so Joyce naturally assumed it would be the same for their engagement.

“Well, when’s the wedding?” she prompted.

“August 21st,” Karen said, not even hesitating, looking like the cat who ate the canary. Of course, she already had the date picked.

“It’ll be at his great aunt’s ranch just outside of Kokomo, and you’re coming. Jim, too,” she added, pointing to the devil himself walking over to greet them.

Joyce turned around as her oldest friend strode over, only to witness a group of junior girls swoon as he passed by. Wearing his beat-up old stormrider over a white tee and jeans, a smoke tucked behind his ear, Joyce didn’t know what the damn fuss was about. He just looked like boring old Jim Hopper to her, the same little boy she grew up with next door. Though, at seventeen, he towered over her by almost a foot now, so he wasn’t _that_ little anymore.

Hopper had shot up like a weed over the previous summer, losing all the baby fat from his formative years practically overnight. The chubby cherub cheeks and the freckles were gone, replaced entirely by 6-foot-3-inches of tall, blonde and handsome — and he knew it. The natural-born heart breaker took his cool-and-aloof reputation a bit too far, and he actually had the girls _chasing him._

Joyce rolled her eyes. The way the younger girls fawned over him made her sick. Sure, okay, he was cute, they could all admit that. And maybe once upon a time, long long ago, she might've thought he'd make a good boyfriend. But she wrinkled her nose at the thought of having a crush on him now. 

“Ladies, what’s shakin’?” Hopper slammed the locker door shut on Joyce, taking a great amount of joy out of being annoying.

Joyce didn’t react, used to his antics, knowing that he was only doing it to get a rise out of her.

“Karen’s dropping the Dawson,” Joyce told him.

Hopper looked at her, brow furrowed, trying to decipher what she was saying.

“I’m getting married!” Karen squealed again, not bothering to wait for Joyce to explain. She held up her hand for him to see this time.

Hopper squinted at the rock on Karen’s hand, unimpressed.

“What? To old man Wheeler?”

Karen slapped at his chest. “Stop calling him that, he’s only twenty,” she said, annoyed.

Hopper shrugged. “Yeah, old.”

“He’s not _old_ , Jim,” Joyce interjected. “He’s a businessman, and he’s successful and sophisticated, not that we expect you to know what that’s like.” She squinted at him, as if daring him to prove her wrong.

“Well, I have something even better than that,” he said, ignoring the slight from Joyce. He dangled a set of keys in the girl’s faces, waiting for their reaction.

Both looked at him, confused.

“Car keys?” Joyce asked, equally unimpressed with his version of show and tell.

“Not just any keys,” Hopper said, explaining. “ _The keys_ , Joyce. Pop-pop came through, I got the GTO this morning.” He held a hand up to Joyce, expecting a high-five.

Joyce’s jaw dropped. He had been waiting all year for the Pontiac, a promised graduation gift from his generous grandparents on his mother’s side. Joyce knew how hard he had worked for it, considering she was the one who had to stay on his ass and tutor him all last semester to help get his grades back up to where they needed to be to walk across the stage at the end of the year.

“No way!” Joyce said, excited for him. She gave him his well-deserved high-five, and then smacked him on the arm, “Why didn’t you give me a ride this morning, jerk?”

“Yes, way! And you had already left when he showed it to me.”

“Excuse me, how is a car better than a diamond?” Karen interrupted their banter. She waved her left hand in front of their faces again.

Hop just stared at her. “How is it not?”

Karen heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t rain on my parade, Jim! I’m getting married,” she repeated in sing-song. It was obvious what she was fishing for.

Hopper rolled his eyes back.

“Congratulations, Karen,” he said, knowing that was all it would take to make her happy again.

And it did, until the warning bell rang a moment later. Lockers slammed shut in unison throughout the halls as students started to make their way to second class of the day. Karen grabbed her book bag too and turned to leave.

“Gotta run to my English final. Wish me luck — not that I need it, now that I’m a _kept woman_ ,” she flashed a sly grin at Joyce.

Joyce knew exactly what that meant. No more worrying about applying for college or finding a job after high school was over, Karen had been selected to be Hawkin’s next beautiful, dutiful, happy housewife.

Joyce shook her head and wished her luck anyway. “Good luck! See you later, alligator.”

“After while, crocodiles,” Karen said, throwing them a toodle-oo over her shoulder, diamond twinkling her goodbye.

Joyce turned to Hopper then, and without even needing to ask, she loaded up his arms with books. Hitching up her plaid skirt, she got down on the floor to pull more junk out of the bottomless pit that was her locker. 

“Now you got the grades, and the car, I guess you can stop trying so hard?” she said to Hopper, smirking.

“Damn rights,” he nodded, setting her books down beside her. He watched her for a moment as she paused to go through what she already tossed aside, organizing the loose papers into stacks, her lips pursed in thought as she continued to clean out her locker. She looked like the prettiest thing he’d ever seen with her hair pulled back like that.

“Wanna play hooky with me this afternoon, take this bad boy for a spin?” he said, tossing the key to the GTO in her lap and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I’ll even let you drive.”

“Aw,” Joyce’s cheeks flushed at the invitation and she stammered, handing the keychain back to him apologetically. “That sounds great, but I got a Pep Club meeting with Karen after school. Last one before Prom,” she reminded him. She didn’t need to say anything more. The girls had been working hard on putting the Prom together for their class and he knew how important it was for her to be there.

But he wasn’t about to give up just yet. “Well, what about after? We could hit up that double feature at the drive-in tonight? Maybe get a malt at Benny’s after? My treat.”

Joyce threw him a sorry look and said, “Lonnie’s picking me up for a date after Pep.”

Hopper bit his tongue. _Not that clown, again._

“But that sounds like fun,” Joyce perked back up. “Why don’t you take Chrissy Carpenter? Weren’t you supposed to be asking her to Prom anyway?”

Hopper deeply regretted telling Joyce that. It was just something dumb he said a few weeks ago when he started fooling around with Chrissy to make Joyce jealous. Which just happened to be around the same time Joyce started getting serious with Lonnie and Hopper realized he was jealous himself.

“Yeah,” he admitted reluctantly, sliding down to the floor to sit next to her.

Joyce looked at him, expectantly. “And? Did you?”

“No, but I will,” he stuttered. “I will. I’m just leaving my options open for now…” he leaned up against Joyce’s locker, looking right at her, wishing she’d pick up what he was putting down already. But she didn’t seem to notice.

“What options?” Joyce muttered, digging into the back of her locker. “It’s a week away, Hop, what are you doing? Do you need me to ask her for you?” She popped her head out to look at him, concerned. She kept her voice low when she asked, “‘Cause I can do that… if you need me to?”

“No, I don’t need you to ask her,” he said with a grunt. Today just wasn’t going to be his day.

At least there was always good old Chrissy — the junior cheerleader eager to find herself a graduating senior with a car. She had dumped him after his dad took the Oldsmobile away three weeks ago, but one flash of the leather keychain in his hand and he knew she’d be back.

Hopper huffed, admitting defeat. “I’ll do it. Maybe later tonight.”

“Let me know how it goes,” she said, smiling as she pulled out the textbook from under a pile of papers with a flourish. “Aha!” 

But Hopper was distracted, something else caught his eye. He stood up to pluck the photo off her locker door before she could stop him. He held it up above her head, just out of her reach and stared at it disapprovingly. It was a black and white snapshot of Lonnie, sitting on the hood of his jacked-up 55’ Thunderbird, hair slicked back, tee-shirt sleeve rolled up around a pack of smokes. The original James Dean wannabe.

“I can’t believe you’re still seeing this Greaser,” he said, cringing.

“It's not like he skipped town, Jim. He just dropped out is all. Doesn’t mean we have to stop seeing each other,” she said, using Hop’s first name now, which meant she was giving him a warning.

Lonnie had thankfully stopped showing up to classes last month when he found out he would be failing the twelfth grade for the second time in a row. Hopper had hoped that would be the last he saw of that scuzzball. Joyce could do so much better than Lonnie fucking Byers.

Snatching the photo back from Hopper, Joyce stuck it up on the locker door where it belonged.

“What do you see in him anyway?” Hopper scoffed. “I mean, who lifts a T-Bird like that?”

“I see lots of good things in Lonnie,” Joyce countered.

“Like?” Hopper asked.

Joyce rolled her eyes so far back in her head then, he wondered if she could see herself. 

“Like…” she started, suddenly struggling to list Lonnie’s so-called qualities. “He’s got a car.”

Hopper chuckled and dangled the car keys in front of Joyce’s face again, much to her annoyance.

“Everyone’s got a car, nowadays babe. That don’t mean sweet F.A.,” he said, knowing he had her there.

“He’s handsome,” she smirked.

Hopper scowled. “And?”

“And… he’s a good kisser,” she said right to Hopper’s face. She was trying to make a bold statement, even though her rosy cheeks gave her away.

Hopper just shook his head at her.

“Gross,” he said. "I don't want to hear about that shit."

“Oh, are we jealous?” Joyce raised an eyebrow at him as she restacked all the folded-up notes her and Karen passed during classes, shoving them between books haphazardly.

Hopper shrugged, his face scrunched up as he shook his head, “No.”

“Good, you shouldn’t be anyway from what I've heard.”

He raised an eyebrow at her before she went on to explain. Joyce grinned at him, knowingly.

“Chrissy might've told Karen during French that you’re quite the kisser yourself. I heard you have… an interesting technique,” she said, eyebrows raised.

“Oh yeah? Maybe you’d like to find out first hand?” Hopper puckered his lips and leaned in for a sloppy air-kiss.

Joyce put her hand up to stop him in his tracks, disgusted.

“Not if you were the last man on Earth!” she laughed, pushing him out of her way right as the last bell chimed. She glanced at the clock and then back to Hopper with big eyes.

“Shit, I gotta go. I’ll be lucky if Mrs. Meyer doesn’t fail me for being late again. You coming?” Joyce asked, already knowing what his answer would be.

Hopper tossed the keys in the air and caught them in one swift move. “Nope, I’m outta here,” he said, sarcasm implied. “Gonna hit that open road. Maybe squeeze in a trip to California, or Canada. I heard it’s nice up there this time of year.”

Joyce smirked at him, tucking her textbook under her arm. “Fine. Have fun in Canada,” she said, slamming the locker shut behind her. She looked so beautiful when she was being sarcastic. “See you after fifth, dork.” She waved goodbye as she turned to leave, hustling to her next class.

“See you after fifth,” Hopper echoed, staring after Joyce as she walked away still completely unaware she was dragging his heart on a leash behind her.

  


  



	2. Chapter 2

**The break between fifth and sixth period was half over, and Joyce was so lost in thought, she almost forgot that she wasn't alone.** Joyce and Hopper sat at the bottom of the stairs behind the gymnasium, hiding out in their usual spot, eating their lunch, just like always. Joyce wasn't her usual chipper self though. Her face cast down, she left her food untouched as Hopper all but inhaled his. She had been sitting like that for a few minutes now, letting the last of his Camel smolder between her fingertips. 

"Earth to Joyce!" Hopper waved his ham sandwich in front of her expressionless face.   


"Huh? Oh," she said, blinking with a wince when she realized he was talking to her.   


"Way to space out on me," he frowned at her and the wasted cigarette, a long column of ash perched between her fingers. His expression melted to concern when she looked back at him with troubled eyes.   


"Everything okay?"  


Joyce sighed, unsure if she should open up to Hopper or sugarcoat the truth like she always did for him. He didn't really handle deep conversations like heart-to-hearts very well as she had found out over the years.  


"Yeah, I'm fine," she lied, her voice wavering as she took the last drag off the cigarette. "Karen's news this morning just sent me for a spin."  


Hopper stuffed the last of his sandwich in his mouth. "I take it the road trip's canceled?" he managed to ask between chews.  


"Yup," she nodded, throwing the spent smoke on the ground, grinding the butt out with the point of her saddle shoe with vigor, as if it were the sole cause for her pent up emotions.  


"Bummer," Hopper nodded along with her in sympathy.  


She could tell Hopper was trying to find the words to comfort her, to make it okay, but he gave up after a long, heavy pause.  


"Wanna go for a walk?" he asked instead.  


She shrugged and nodded sullenly, gathering up her things and throwing her book bag over her shoulder.

A walk would be good, give her something to do other than dwell on her thoughts and worries, hidden away under the stairs behind the high school. It was a beautiful day out, and Joyce let the sunshine warm her face and distract her for a brief moment from the dark thoughts edging in. Karen's happy news that morning had cast a pall on her, and it was suddenly occurring to Joyce that things would never be the same again. She soaked in the familiar scenes as they navigated their usual circuit around the schoolyard in silence. They had probably walked that stretch a thousand times over the last four years, but this was it. It very well might’ve been the last time they ever took this stroll, so she savored it as best she could.  


The jocks were on the field, practicing for the last big games of the season. Groups of students and couples sat on the bleachers and watched, basking in the early afternoon sun. Some were smoking and roughhousing, while others caught some rays on the grass or studied. Hawkins High was picking up good vibrations all around, and their class seemed content as a whole. Everything was as it should be.   


Joyce was the only one walking around with a storm cloud overhead, miserable with the thought that it was the end of an era for her classmates and a strange premonition that nothing would be the same this time next week. It wasn't the first time she had that feeling, and once she had it, it was hard to shake — the inertia of reality and her loss of innocence catching up to her.   


The first significant moment she remembered feeling this way was November '63, soon after finding out the fate of their president and Joyce would forever remember that exact horrible moment for the rest of her life. America watched in shock as Camelot fell and vice president Johnson was sworn in; as Jacqueline Kennedy's heart broke in two, over and over. The footage playing on repeat burned into Joyce's brain. The candy coating of America had dissolved that day, revealing an unsettling, sour core and it was all the proof she needed to understand that nothing gold could stay.  


Now, as Joyce meandered alongside her best friend, kicking rocks down the sidewalk, she took in the sights as if it were the last time. Another wave of sadness overcame her. Soon, their class would be split up, friendships faded and outgrown. Some classmates would be content to stay in Hawkins and live a quiet, small-town life — like Karen — while others would leave with the intention to come back — like Joyce.

Some might never come back at all... seeds scattered in the wind. Bob Dylan was right: the times were a-changin'.  


"I can't believe she's getting married so fast," Joyce finally blurted out, starting the conversation, not bothering to clarify who she was talking about. They only knew one person getting married, and she was currently shouting it from the school's rooftop, telling anyone who would listen. "It feels like she just met Ted and they're rushing into this, but I guess it's love.“  


"What? You don't approve?" Hopper asked, a smirk touching his lips.   


"Of course, I approve!" Joyce scrunched up her face at the suggestion. She brought her book bag around to look inside for something, obscuring her face, so he couldn't see that she was fighting back tears. "I'm happy for Karen. I know this is what she wants. But now _I'm_ torn," she said, pulling an apple from the bottom of the bag with a sniff.  


"About what?"  


"It's silly," she admitted, taking a bite out of the fruit, buying time before she unleashed her confession on him. "All this hubbub about marriage this morning and hearing all the other girls talk about their plans after we finish school, I suddenly feel like I'm the odd one out for wanting to go to college and have a career. Like I'm shirking my womanly duties or something, just because I don't want to be Suzy Homemaker right away."   


She pushed her bangs out of her eyes and looked to see him nodding along, listening. There was no chance he would understand, but at least he wasn't interrupting her for once.   


"And here's Karen, marrying into the silver spoon treatment right outta high school? It seems like an easy way out," she muttered and then hung her head in shame for admitting it out loud. "I'm suddenly struggling to find a reason why I don't want to take the easy way out, too."   


Hopper tutted and pointing to the big purple badge pinned to her bag between BAN THE BOMB and SEGREGATION IS DISCRIMINATION.   


"That's it," he teased, holding his hand out to Joyce expectantly. "Time to hand in your women's lib pin."  


Joyce huffed and passed him the apple instead, watching him take a big bite. He was right. What she was admitting went against everything she fought for in her Women's Liberation student group, and that only served to make her feel worse.  


"I'm serious," she whined, looking to him with big eyes. "I feel awful about it, Hop. I was so sure that I wanted to go to school when I found out, but now it's starting to look like… like a mountain I don't want to climb. I mean, what if I flunk out?"  


He shortened his pace next to her so he could grab her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed. She smiled softly as his comforting touch lingered. 

And then he opened his big, stupid mouth.  


"You're not gonna flunk out, dummy," he said, almost scolding her. "You don't give yourself enough credit sometimes. Your art… is... the best art in all of Hawkins."   


She made a noise at his thoughtless comment and pulled her hand away, narrowing her gaze on him.  


"Oh yeah? And how do you know? Do you even know which project I submitted for the scholarship?”

Hopper's mouth opened and closed, like a fish. He had no clue, even though she had asked for his opinion before she sent in the application.   


"I showed it to you! You said it was ‘Awesome!’” she said, air-quoting him, mocking his deep, dumb voice.

Hopper frowned.

“It was a mixed-media installation," she prompted him. "An interpretation of T.S. Eliot's _Four Quartets_ , _Burnt_ …"  


" _Norton_ ," he finished for her, sheepish that it took that long to jog his memory. "Right, yeah. That."   


She glowered at him before softening.  


"Look, I'm just frustrated because… I thought I knew what I wanted, and now… I don't know. It just feels like everything is changing so fast, y' know? And I have to make all these big decisions and moves and— why can't everything just stay the same?" she pouted.  


"Are you having second thoughts about Herron?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.  


"Maybe?" she admitted with a grimace.   


Post-secondary certainly hadn't been on her agenda at the beginning of the school year.

Early in January, the new art teacher, Ms. Garcia, took Joyce aside after class and told her that she had a keen eye for detail and that if she kept at it, it would lead her to do amazing things. The young teacher had pushed some papers across her desk; an application for the Herron School of Art and Design in Indianapolis. Joyce had thanked her for the suggestion but told her she couldn't afford to go to school that fall. Ms. Garcia told Joyce she had serious potential, and insisted she think on it. Then she told her about the scholarship.

Joyce put it off, naturally. She didn’t think she'd have what it would take to win. Her teacher seemed to have more faith, however and helped her fill out the forms at the last minute, reminding Joyce that she had a natural talent which shouldn't be ignored.  


When Joyce received the letter a few months later stating that she was the finalist for a full-ride to Herron, she could hardly believe it. It wasn't State or Notre Dame, but it was the best art school in Indiana, to be respected in its own right. Joyce would also be the first woman in her family to attend a post-secondary that wasn't strictly secretarial, and she felt the immense weight of that responsibility and an obligation to see it through. The idea of being a full-time art major had her walking on air for the last few months, excited for what changes the fall would bring.  


But as the days went on, Joyce began second-guessing herself again, and started to wonder if she even deserved such a huge opportunity. Surely there had to be someone more deserving in Roane? Someone with more talent or need?  


She sighed, dropping her shoulders as she reiterated to Hopper. "I'm just worried, that's all. I don’t want to blow it.“  


Hopper shook his head at her.  


"What's there to worry about?"  


"Everything!" she exclaimed. Her eyebrows knitted together, and she began chewing on her bottom lip, at the peak of her anxiety. "I don't know what I'm doing, Hop."  


Hopper gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, his heavy hand keeping her on level ground.   


"You know what you're doing," he reminded her. She shook her head.   


"Yeah, for the short term, and even that doesn't feel real yet. Graduation's next week. If I get the scholarship and go to Herron in the fall and then… I don't know," she said, throwing her hands up to the sky as if asking for a sign from the heavens. "I don't even know what I'm gonna take yet."  


“But… I thought you were going for art... stuff?" he asked, taking another bite of their shared apple.  


Joyce knew Hopper didn't actually have a clue beyond the fact that Herron was the a prestigious art school in the state and it was a once in a lifetime opportunity for someone like Joyce to get all expenses paid. He likely just assumed Joyce would be painting and drawing and learning from the masters, to paint… and draw.  


"There's lots of different _art_ _stuff_ I could be doing, Jim," Joyce said, her voice on the razor-thin edge of exasperation and laughter. 

Hopper pressed his lips together, and she could tell he was choosing his next words wisely.   


"Okay, here's the thing," he sighed, his patience waning, gesturing to the entire student body around them. “None of us know what we're doing. Me especially."  


"So?" Joyce asked.  


"So, what if I told you that you don't need to have a plan? Just let it ride, see how things pan out. Who says we need to figure it all out right now? "   


Joyce hoisted her bag up higher on her shoulder with a perplexed expression. What part of this wasn't he getting?   


"I need to have my electives submitted by the first week of June. So, I kinda do need to figure it out _right now_."  


"Oh," he said, zipping his mouth shut and passing her fruit back to her.   


She held the apple in her hand, poised to take a bite when she turned to him, confused.   


"So, wait. You're telling me your plan is that you… don't have a plan? At all? That's gonna go over real well with your father," Joyce said, knowing full well that Mr. Hopper was a hardass who didn't tolerate his son's natural ability to be " _a lazy little shit_."  


Hopper shrugged it off.   


"My plan… is to enjoy the summer. Probably get a job with ol' Benny boy there," he said, nodding to where their friend was across the field, practicing with the varsity team for the final game of the season. Ben was always easy to spot, a full foot taller than the other linebackers. "The old man won't care as long as I'm working," Hopper continued. "So, I'll go flip burgers over at Mr. Hammond's diner for the summer. Save up. Maybe move out, sooner than later. Maybe I'll even take off and see the world. Y’know, whatever.“   


Hopper certainly had a freeing mentality to it all, and Joyce envied him for it. It seemed so simple for him to just see what life tossed his way. He'd probably coast along, go the blue-collar route eventually, or end up in the force, just like his father, and his father's father. But that was always a fundamental difference between them, even as kids growing up: Joyce preferred to always have a well thought out plan, while Hop liked to fly by the seat of his pants.   


She just shook her head and took another bite of her apple before passing it back to him again, her words interspersed with crunches as she continued her inquisition.   


"And then? I mean, don't you want a career? A family?"  


Hopper huffed at her unusual questions. "Yeah, I guess… I could get me one of those career things."   


Then he thought about it some more.   


"I'd take a house on Maple, too. A couple of kids would be nice. Oh, and a smokin' old lady, who brings me sandwiches and beers, on demand,” Hopper joked, trying to lighten the random heavy talk she was forcing on him.  


"Of course, the beautiful subservient wife is a must," Joyce agreed with him sarcastically — his sexism was showing. "But you don't want that all right away?"  


"No way!" He shook his head like a stubborn child who didn't want his medicine. "Maybe in a few years. See what Uncle Sam has in store for me first," he said, face clouding over as he spoke.  


"Don't say that," Joyce shushed him. She didn't want to even begin thinking about that right now. "Johnson just said it's about to wind down.”  


Joyce wasn't sure of that fact, it was just something she heard on the radio, but she hoped it would be the case so they could avoid the whole Vietnam thing altogether. Their sitting president hadn't given them a reason to doubt him... Yet.  


"Yeah we'll see," Hopper said, finishing the apple off, tossing the core aside. "So, you takin’ the easy way out or what? "  


"No," she said sighing. "I haven't completely given up on school… yet. So, I guess in the meantime, I should find a job over the summer so I can save up to move out too. "  


"Why? You're mom's never home anyway."

Hopper had a point. Mrs. Horowitz was notorious for leaving Joyce alone for days or weeks at a time while she chased her boyfriends halfway 'round the midwest. There wasn't really a a rush to moving out just yet, but it was something she needed to start preparing for.  


"True," Joyce shrugged. "But I'll need to move out by August, though, to give me time to get settled in Indy before school starts. Which means I need to start looking for a place to rent in July."  


Hopper looked like he had forgotten that part — like he wasn't sure what to make of Joyce just up and leaving Hawkins like that. 

"Huh. Bright lights, big city," he muttered.

"Yeah," Joyce sucked in a deep breath, utterly overwhelmed at the thought of moving to Indianapolis and striking out on her own. "Super heavy, I know."

"Lonnie going with you?" Hopper asked then, casually, pulling leaves off a bush as they passed the entrance to the school. He fiddled with them as he waited for her response.  


Joyce side-eyed him. "Maybe. What's it to ya?"  


"Just curious," Hopper said, letting the leaves blow away.   


Joyce's lips teased her amusement.   


Even though Hopper and Lonnie had been friends all throughout middle school, Hop didn't seem to care for Lonnie much anymore. Something had changed when Lonnie started flirting shamelessly with Joyce in the tenth grade. By the time Lonnie convinced Joyce to go on a date at the beginning of the senior year, Hopper's general dislike for Lonnie finally erupted into full-blown hate. Before Lonnie dropped out, the boys were butting heads regularly, and Joyce quickly learned to keep the two idiots separated as much as possible to maintain the peace. It had worked well for her over the last few months, at least until today. She wondered what was spurring the sudden interest on Hop’s part.  


"Think you'll marry him?" Hopper asked Joyce point-blank.  


The question was so out of the blue coming from him, she laughed. But Hopper was dead-serious.  


"I hadn't really thought about it," she said, and that was the god's honest truth. Sure, she wanted to get married, but she didn't know yet if Lonnie was the marrying kind. He was certainly looking like a fun time for the summer, though she would never admit that to Hop.  


"You know, that guy is a real J.D. piece of work, Joyce." Hopper cracked his knuckles, a sour look on his face.  


"He is not a Juvie!" Joyce exclaimed, knowing she was only loosely defending Lonnie on a technicality: his record had been wiped by the county on his eighteenth birthday in January.   


"He promised me he was being good," she affirmed to her concerned friend. "Said he's got a job now and that he's saving up to move out too. "  


"Oh, is that what he said?" Hopper laughed. "What's the new job? Working hard down at the ol' Chop Shop?"  


"Oh my god, Jim. Shut up!" Joyce groaned and smacked him on the arm for what he was implying.   


"Just watch yourself around him, that's all I'm saying. You know he's more trouble than he's worth,” he said, gazing down at Joyce. "And I'm still allowed to watch your back, y' know." 

Joyce bumped into him on purpose as they walked, trying to ignore the flush in her cheeks, flattered that he cared so much.   


"I can hold my own," she smirked back.  


"I know, I know. You're small, but feisty," Hopper said, patting her on the head with a grin. 

"Darn tootin'," she beamed up at him.  


"Wait, stop," he said, reaching out to her, halting them in their tracks.  


"What?"  


With a grin, Hopper spun her around to face the student parking lot, her back facing him, his arms wrapped around her tiny frame in a bear hug.   


Joyce's jaw dropped.  


She had only seen the one in the magazine ad and another from a distance on Main Street last summer when Hop pointed it out to her: the one that started his obsession. This was her first real look at a brand-spankin' new Pontiac GTO, hot off the lot, sleek lines sparkling like diamonds in the sun.  


"There she is, "he said, spreading his arms wide at the sight of his pretty little coupe.   


"Jeez, Hop," Joyce breathed, taking in the vision. "It's a thing of beauty, all right." Joyce skipped over to the driver's side and held her hands up, pressing her face to the window to sneak a peek inside.   


"Tell me about it! Nightwatch blue, gold trim. Four on the floor with a 389 V8. Zero to 60 in six seconds, Joyce. Do you even know what that feels like?"  


"Uh, fast?" she offered, moving around to the hood of the car to get a better look from the front.   


"Oh yeah," he said, biting his bottom lip at the word.  


"You're terrible," Joyce laughed. "But this car… is cherry." 

She slid her hand up the hood, admiring the shimmering indigo flecks of sparkle in the smoky blue exterior and felt a genuine smile sneak up on her as she realized Hopper's intention. He had brought her out here to cheer her up and entice her to play hookie, knowing she couldn’t say no once she saw the damn car.   


The warning bell rang out across the schoolyard, signaling the end of the break. The other students mulled around them in the parking lot, heading back to the main doors of the school. Hopper and Joyce stuck around, in no hurry to head back to class.

Just then, a bubbly voice called out from behind Joyce.   


"Oh, hey, Jim! Is that your car?"   


Joyce turned to see a tall blonde brush passed towards Hopper, nose in the air as she floated by. It was Chrissy Carpenter, the queen-bee of the junior class, with her two wanna-bees buzzing around at her side.   


"Just got ‘er today," Hopper said, fumbling to lean up against the hood like James Dean as Chrissy approached, catching him off guard. The blonde didn't seem to mind, watching him squirm as she got closer, feeding off his nervous energy.  


"Now, this is what I'm talking about," she said, admiring the car, trailing her frosted pink nails across the paint job, and then up to his arm. Hopper squirmed some more.  


Joyce cringed as the scene played out in front of her.  


"What do you think, ladies?" Chrissy asked of her loyal subjects.  


"Oh yeah," the redhead said, nodding emphatically along with her. "It's real groovy."  


"Outta sight," the brunette one snapped her bubblegum, staring at Hopper with doe eyes from under long lashes.  


Chrissy smiled wide, like a crocodile about to eat its prey. She leaned into Hopper as if they didn't have an audience, practically melting for him and his new car in the late Spring sun.  


"Maybe you could pick me up tonight after eight? Take me for a ride? We could go to the lookout again and do that thing you wanted…" 

Joyce coughed and bit her lip, trying not to laugh, which caught everyone's attention. Chrissy shot daggers at her and Joyce just rolled her eyes. Hopper watched the interaction between the two unfold before locking eyes with Joyce over the hood of the car.  


"Yeah, sure. Eight," Hopper nodded at Chrissy.  


"Perfect! See you then!" Chrissy said on a high note, as she grabbed her friends and bounced away.   


Joyce just shook her head in awe as she watched the trio of girls giggle their way over to the school's entrance, sneaking looks back at Hopper and the coupe.   


"That was ‘ _so groovy, outta sight_ ,’” she said mockingly to Hopper, face scrunched up in disgust at the grotesque display she just witnessed.  


"Oh, are we jealous?" he asked, echoing Joyce's words back to her from earlier that morning. 

Joyce shook her head, pressing her lips together, holding back a smirk. Even if she were, she wouldn't dare admit it to him.   


"Not even a little."   


"Hm," he said, a devilish grin spreading on his lips. "Well, since we can't go tonight, what's say you and I go for a little spin right now?"   


Chrissy was already long forgotten as he focused his attention on wearing down little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes. Every once in a while, he could convince Joyce to explore her inner wild-child.  


Joyce dropped her bag at her feet and put her hands on her hips to stare him down, contemplating if she should or not. It was really tempting with only one week left of classes to go. And since she could count on one hand how many classes she'd skipped so far this semester, she reasoned one more couldn't hurt.   


Hopper raised his brows to prompt her.  


"I could probably skip Cooper's class. It's study hall again today, and he fell asleep halfway through yesterday," she reasoned, tilting her head as she weighed the consequences. Were there any, though? With all this responsibility looming ahead, this might be her last chance to have some real fun. She pursed her lips, then asked, "Maybe just a zip around the block?" knowing full well they'd be gone a lot longer than that. "As long as I'm back before English."  


"You're driving." Hopper grinned at how easy she gave in and tossed the keys to her.  


She caught them, wide-eyed, looking between them, Hopper and the car.  


"Are you sure?" She asked, surprised, eyebrows sky-high. Lonnie never, ever let her drive the Thunderbird.   


Hopper cocked his head. 

"Who taught you to drive, babe?" He asked.

“Don't call me that,” Joyce smothered a giggle, practically giddy as Hopper moved around to open the driver's side door for her and let her get situated behind the wheel. Jumping in the passenger side, he leaned over to adjust the wheel and seat for her, giving her instructions.   


"Alright, now. Easy on the clutch! And feather the brakes! They're sticky because they're new—“  


"Yeah, yeah, I know how to drive," Joyce told him, chock full of confidence now, and shoved him out of her way so she could start the car.

It roared as she turned it over, and Joyce gasped at the sound. Then she revved the engine, and the GTO bellowed smoke, drawing the attention of everyone left in the parking lot.

Hopper chuckled and took a nervous breath, before he lit a cigarette and adjusted the mirror for her. "Joyce," he said, smoke dangling from his lips as he drummed the dashboard. "Drive."

Joyce never felt more free in her life than she did that afternoon: windows rolled down, radio blaring, a warm breeze pulling her dark hair free from her ponytail. Ahead, green lights and blue skies forever, speeding towards the State Road and their future unknown. But Joyce didn't care too much about the future right then. All that mattered was that moment, that afternoon in the sun, and the carefree smile Jim Hopper wore that was so rare to see. It was something she'd remember for the rest of her life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Out past the cornfields and beyond town limits, sat the Starlite drive-in: the hippest place in Hawkins to hang out since the diner.**

Also, the only other place to hang out since the diner.

With two large screens and a concession stand, the Starlite drew in teens from all over Roane county, though everyone knew it was strictly Hawkins territory. That Friday night in May, the old farmer's field between the two screens was jam-packed with cars filled with the wild local youth. Stormy weather had rolled into town late afternoon, but despite that, almost all of Hawkins High had shown up. A fiery sunset was painting the rural Indiana sky in faded crimsons behind stark indigo clouds, the lightning and thunder tapering off just in time for the movie to start when Lonnie and Joyce pulled up.

He had picked her up from the school earlier that night, soon after Pep club finished, hiding a small bouquet of red carnations tied with twine behind his back and a bashful grin painted on his face. He took her to grab a quick bite to eat at the Chinese place on Main street and then whisked her off to the Starlite as a surprise to see the new Jane Fonda film. He even made sure to get there early since he knew how much she liked watching the previews.

Joyce had a distinct feeling she was in for a strange evening. The air seemed to be charged, and not just because of the thunder storm that was quickly retreating above them, but because of Lonnie.

He was acting so odd, almost possessed… by a polite young man. All evening he had been opening doors for her and pulling her chair out, complimenting her on something other than her body, paying for everything she wanted without complaining about the price. He said that he had one more surprise for her when they got to the Starlite, and her interest was piqued.

As Lonnie put the Thunderbird in park, Joyce looked around at the other vehicles pulling up around them. Groups were getting settled in to watch the double-feature, and even though everything was still wet from the rain, teens sat on the hoods of their cars, or set up camp with sleeping bags in the beds of their trucks. Most couples were content to stay in the privacy of their own vehicles, much like Lonnie and Joyce, who were parked in his favorite spot at the far corner of the lot. Joyce watched him set up the speaker box on his windowsill and pulled her jacket tight around her shoulders when he rolled the window down.

"So, what's my surprise?" Joyce asked impatiently, hoping for something to distract her from the chill in the air.

"Hold your damn horses, woman," Lonnie chided, fiddling with the speaker box, getting the volume just right. He looked over to see her shiver. "What? You cold?"

"Mhmm." Joyce rubbed her arms and bounced her knees in her seat.

"Oh, well, we can fix that!" Lonnie smirked and reached over her.

Joyce leaned back in her seat as he hit the glovebox with his fist. It dropped down, and he grabbed a silver flask the size of his palm before slamming the box shut again.

Unscrewing the top, he took a gulp and then passed it to her. She took a sip, hesitantly. The sharp taste of pine hit her tongue and instantly burned the back of her throat. Joyce tried not to choke, spitting the rest back without Lonnie noticing, and passed it back to him with a small, forced smile of thanks.

"It's just a nip of gin, Joyce. Don't be shy, get to know it," he mumbled, with a smug grin. "It'll help you warm up, in more ways than one."

Joyce dropped her smile and grimaced, though Lonnie was too busy preening at himself in the rearview mirror to notice.

"Well, I guess I can give you your surprise now," he grinned.

Joyce looked around them in the empty car, her teeth almost chattering in her skull. "What is it?"

“ _Me,_ " his grin went wide, waiting for his punchline to land.

It didn't. Joyce stared at him, nonplussed.

Lonnie huffed and shifted in his seat, and Joyce could tell he was trying hard to be patient with her.

"I uh, want us to go steady…" he elaborated, searching her face for a reaction. "We should be, y' know, exclusive. I think we're ready, what d'ya say?"

Joyce crossed her arms at what she was hearing.

" _Exclusive?_ Have you been seeing other girls this whole time?"

"Of course not," Lonnie said, laughing her off like it was a big joke, and she wondered if he was telling the truth when he got serious on her. "Babe, we've been dating for what? Almost a year now?"

"Six months," Joyce offered, unimpressed.

"Yeah, so all I'm saying is we should consider taking things to the next level, right? Six months is a long time if you know what I mean. I really like you, kid, and I wanna make you mine."

Joyce hesitated. Lonnie seemed sincere, but she'd never gone steady with anyone before. Was this really how it was supposed to be? Feeling irritated and confused, cold, and cornered in his car. She heard of other girls getting rings or letterman jackets… but for all his effort, Lonnie was coming up short. She always thought this moment would be different, so she couldn't help but feel disappointed by how it was actually playing out.

"So, what d'you say?"

"Uh… sure," Joyce said with forced grin, trying her best to be more excited, not wanting to let him down. "Can you turn up the heat? I'm freezing."

"Yeah, babe, anything you want," Lonnie nodded, his eyes glinted, reflecting the bright light of the movie screen. He turned the engine over and cranked the heat, before opening his arms and his leather jacket to her. "C' mere. I'll keep you warm."

Now, that was more like it. Joyce leaned against Lonnie, content with his offer to cuddle, as rubbed her arms to help warm her up. They snuggled into the bench seat, watching the colorful animated snacks, hotdogs and popcorn, and sodas with legs dance across the screen, letting the audience know the movie was about to start. Joyce sighed and tried to relax.

She hadn’t always been the good-girl type, not by a long stretch… not after all the wild parties she threw when her mom wasn’t home during freshman year. And when she wasn’t day dreaming in class, she found herself playing hooky under the guidance of a borderline-delinquent Hopper.

Senior year was a different story though. As graduation loomed and the weight of the world hit her full force, Joyce realized she had to find her inner book worm and fast if she wanted to get anywhere in the real world. Of course, while she was scrambling to get her grades together, Joyce caught Lonnie’s full-attention, and she quickly found out that when Lonnie Byers wanted something, he got it. By any means necessary.

Sometime during the concession ad and the previews, Lonnie's hand wandered under her shirt, looking for a preview of his own.

"Hey, stop that!" Joyce removed his hand from her shirt and dropped it off her shoulder, annoyed.

Lonnie shrugged, playing it off like he didn't know exactly what he was doing.

"What?"

"You know what." Joyce crossed her arms and glared him down. _Don't play dumb with me, bucko._

Lonnie knew he was caught, and he sat back in his seat with a huff. He pointed at her, punctuating his words.

"You said when school was done, and you didn't have to worry about your grades…"

Joyce gritted her teeth.

"I know what I said, but there are two weeks left of school, Lonnie. I shouldn't even be out tonight; I should be studying," she lied. All the important core tests were over with, all that was left to finish was her finals for French and Home Ec, but he didn't need to know that.

Lonnie caught her eye, pleading.

"Two measly weeks? That's what this is about? Come on, sweetheart. You're killing me over here."

Joyce sighed and crossed her arms. She wasn't about to explain the concept of boundaries to a man-child. No meant _no_.

"I just want to watch the movie, Lon,” she said, nodding to the screen.

Lonnie looked around him to all the darkened vehicles parked, some with windows already fogged up.

"You gotta be kidding me! No one goes to the drive-in to watch the movie, Joyce," he chuckled to himself, amused by the thought.

Joyce didn't respond, stewing in the passenger seat as the flashing technicolor on the screen announced the feature presentation was about to begin.

"Fine, we'll watch the damn movie," Lonnie huffed, shoving a handful of popcorn in his yap, yet that still didn't shut him up. "Happy?"

_Not very,_ she thought to herself.

Sure, things with Lonnie were great at the start and six months later, she found out he was capable of being a gentleman every now and then -- when it suited him. But as she watched him grumble to himself in his seat now, glaring at the opening credits of _Cat Ballou_ , she started to wonder how much longer she could put up with this Jekyll and Hyde routine of his.

Not even ten minutes into the western, Lonnie had his arm snaked around her again, pulling her closer to lean into him. Joyce saw no real harm in it as long as he kept his hands to himself, so she snuggled in across the bench seat.

When his hand accidentally-on-purpose grazed her chest, she just tried to focus on the movie, hoping he would get the hint. But, minutes later, when she reached for her Coca-cola, his hand strayed to her lap. Joyce didn't move, hoping he'd keep it mellow so she didn't have to tell him again. But ever so slowly, as if he could hear her thoughts, his hand dipped down to her knees and under her skirt, his fingers dancing up to the top of her thigh-high stockings.

She froze.

"Come on, babe," he whispered, nuzzling her ear. "Loosen up, have a little fun tonight."

Her hand shot out to stop his in its tracks, but that just seemed to entice him more. Lonnie pushed himself on her, trying to kiss her as he continued his hot pursuit.

"Damn it, Lonnie, I said no!" she growled and pushed him away, pressing herself against the door and grasping blindly for the handle behind her. The door swung open against her weight, spilling her out of the Thunderbird and into a mud puddle the size of Tippecanoe.

Joyce could hear someone laughing from another car over while someone else flashed their high-beams on her, lighting her up for the whole lot to see. 

Lonnie bit back a laugh too. He leaned over the seat to look down at her, a pathetic sight on her hands and knees. She was soaked, mud-splattered, staining her skirt and blouse. Joyce pushed herself to stand up and looked down at her ruined outfit, wool skirt clinging to her legs like a wet dog. 

"See, now that's your own damn fault for being frigid, isn’t it?” Lonnie smirked down at her, lecturing. "Maybe if you weren't so stuck up, you wouldn't be covered in mud right now."

Joyce choked on the words and the tears building at the back of her throat.

"My fault? _My fault?_ " she scoffed, trying to keep her voice level and calm. All eyes within a twenty car radius were on them. "Maybe if you were a gentleman, and stopped when I said no the first time. _Or the second…_ "

Lonnie glared. "Oh, so it's all my fault then? Is that what I'm hearin'?"

He didn't have to say anything to let her know that she had better watch what she said next.

Joyce just looked down at her messy, muddy hands, and sighed.

"Lonnie, I'm sorry. Can you just take me home now, please?"

"If you think you're getting back in this car looking like that…" Lonnie snorted.

Joyce's jaw dropped. She couldn't believe it. Lonnie was more worried about his car than her! This date was officially O-V-E-R, _over_.

"Fine," she shouted, grabbing her purse off the floor of the car and slinging it over her shoulder. "I guess I'll just _walk home_ , then."

Lonnie waved his hand at her in invitation.

"Knock yourself out, honey," he said, unimpressed, and with more than a hint of doubt in his voice that she would actually follow through on her threat. It was at least ten miles back to town.

Without another word, Joyce spun on her heels and stomped through the soggy field, headed straight for the concession stand. Her blood was boiling. She knew he could be a bit of a jerk, but this was taking the cake!

A few car lengths later, she could hear Lonnie rip out the speaker box and throw it out the car window, cursing as he revved up the T-Bird to chase after her. His headlights lit her up as she stomped through mud puddles. She didn’t give a flying fuck anymore, her saddle shoes were way beyond ruined.

Lonnie pulled up beside her and slowed down, leaning out the driver's side window.

"What are you gonna do, Joyce? _Walk back to Hawkins from here?!_ "

"I will do anything if it gets me away from _you_!" She stomped her foot in another puddle as she yelled. "We're through, Lonnie!"

The look on Lonnie's face was enough to make Joyce want to laugh if she wasn't in such a rotten mood. She could tell he wasn't used to being dumped. A group of girls picking their way around mud puddles with their concession goodies stopped to watch the commotion, giggling to themselves. Then, Lonnie's demeanor softened.

"Come on, babe, go clean up and get back in the car. I think I have a blanket in the trunk so you don't get mud on the seats. We can go back and finish watching the movie."

Joyce looked down at herself and back at him. It would take forever to clean up this mess. She was cold and wet and just wanted to be at home, in her bed. Away from him.

"No," she said, brow furrowed as she realized what he was trying to do. "You didn't want to watch the movie, remember? Just take me home."

Lonnie's face twisted up in a snarl.

"I knew it, I knew you were gonna be a prude tonight when you wouldn't kiss me hello. I didn't even want to be here, y' know? There was a real primo party I turned down to take you out tonight!"

"Well, nothing's stopping you now," Joyce spat back.

Lonnie shook his head at her and then punched the steering wheel, stepping on the gas and spitting mud as he sped out of the parking lot into the dark night, leaving Joyce standing there, stunned.

  


  


Joyce's walk of shame back to the concession booth was a cold, wet, and angry one. Peeling off her drenched jacket and cardigan left her shoulders bare in the brisk spring night. Met with gawking stares and whispers from the movie-going stragglers going to and fro, Joyce didn’t care, already focused on her next problem — _how the hell am I getting home?_

She could probably call Karen to come to pick her up — but then she remembered Karen was with her parents and Ted, celebrating. A good friend wouldn't interrupt that… And knowing her mother, Ma would be three sheets to the wind by now (if she was even at home), so that ruled her out, too.

Maybe if she hung around the booth, she could hitch a ride back into town instead? Only if someone took pity on her and it would be a tough go looking like the mess she was. Fucking Lonnie couldn't even put aside his selfishness to make sure she got home safe. Some boyfriend he turned out to be. Why did she like him again?

A beat-up old Buick made its way through the front gates of the theater as she stomped her way through the mud. Its headlights blinded her as the car headed straight for a huge mud hole. Joyce dodged them at the last second before she could be splashed. One of the male passengers — a baby faced kid no more than fourteen leaned out the window to catcall as they drove off.

_" _Ooh-ee_ baby! Shake it, don't break it!”_

Joyce clenched her jaw, and with all the might she could muster, flipped the bird at the young offender. She listened to the car full of boys howling with laughter as they peeled away and then the deafening silence as she realized how alone she suddenly was. Tears threatened to fall until a quiet voice carried across the way.

"Hey, wait up for a second, Chrissy."

The voice stopped behind her, and she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Joyce, are you okay?"

_Oh, thank god._ She turned around to see Hopper, popcorn and drinks in hand. Chrissy was standing off behind him, arms crossed with an annoyed look plastered to her face.

Joyce sniffled and looked at him, trying not to cry.

Hopper handed his snacks off to his date and then reached for Joyce to pull her into a hug and whispered in her ear, "Do you need a ride home?"

Joyce nodded and leaned into him as he rubbed her back, thankful he was there for her right when she needed him. Noticing the goosebumps on her bare shoulders, he immediately offered up his jacket, draping it over her shoulders without a word.

"What are you doing? We're missing the movie!" Chrissy took a step forward and hissed under her breath at Hopper.

He huffed, and squeezed Joyce's shoulder in comfort, before turning to his date.

"Look, Chrissy, my friend is upset, so I'm going to make sure she gets home okay before I do anything else tonight. Do you want to come with me or do you want to go find your friends?"

The blonde curled her lip and glared at Joyce and then Hopper.

"I'll stay," she said. 

"Okay… I'll call you tomorrow," Hopper said with a shrug.

"Don't bother, Jimmy." Chrissy spun on her heels and stomped off toward the screens.

Joyce sucked in a breath, finding her laugh despite her tears.

_"Jimmy?"_

He shrugged, nonchalant, more interested in her.

"What happened? Did Lonnie hurt you? I'll fucking kill him."

Joyce winced, she didn't want to tell him what really happened, partly because of her pride and partly because she knew Hopper would have to kick Lonnie's ass and that wasn't something she wanted to deal with at the moment.

When they got to his car, all shiny and new, parked in the very last row near the entrance, Joyce paused. There was no way she could sit in the GTO like this.

Hopper prodded her to keep walking. "Come on, let's get you home."

"I'm covered in mud," she said as if it wasn't completely obvious.

"So? It'll buff out. Get in the car, Joyce,"

"Are you sure?"

"No, you know what? You're right. Let's strap you to the roof first," Hopper replied, voice dripping in sarcasm as he held the door for her.

Joyce sighed and climbed in, careful not to make more of a mess than she already was. Mud smeared against the vinyl, and she watched him gulp down a worried look and throw her a reassuring smile instead. As soon as he started it up, he turned the heat up to full blast and grabbed a blanket from the back seat to throw over her legs.

"Good?" he asked.

When Joyce nodded, he put the car into gear and navigated their way in the pitch-black rural Indiana night, headlights guiding them home.

Hopper took out his pack of smokes and lit one, taking a drag before passing it to her. Joyce accepted it with thanks and puffed on it sadly, staring out the window at the cornfields that whipped by under moonlight.

He lit up another smoke for himself before he turned to her and asked, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Joyce just shook her head, looking to him under the muted orange glow of the dashboard lights.

"Okay," he said. "I'm here if you want to…"

Joyce took a deep breath.

”I know."

  


  


The rest of the short drive was spent in awkward silence as grid roads slowly turned into suburban streets. Joyce really didn't want to talk about what happened with Lonnie, and Hopper didn't want to pry. When she couldn't stand the silence anymore, she reached for the radio, turning it up just a little to let the Beatles drown out her thoughts.

As he turned down their block, Hopper spoke up again, making light-hearted chatter to keep her spirits up, so they didn't have to end the night on a sour note.

"Hard to believe prom is next week… this year is going by so fast."

_Prom_. 

Joyce's heart fell. All her hard work and dreams were dashed by the split-second impulse to dump Lonnie — even if he was being a total louse.

"Woah, hey, what's that look for?" Hopper asked when he looked over to see her face scrunched up in a scowl.

"I told Lonnie we were through tonight," she mumbled, rolling her eyes.

"Oh?" Hopper's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't take his eyes off the road. "Before or after the mud?"

"After."

Hopper nodded in relief.

"So, I guess I don't have anyone to go with now,” she said, her voice wobbling on the edge of tears. "I wonder if I can still return my dress."

Miserable at the thought — she had saved up all year working odd jobs to buy that damn dress — she tossed the cigarette butt out the window with a frown, watching the orange sparks skip down the road behind them in the side mirror.

Hopper pulled into her driveway and killed the engine, shaking his head.

"Nope. That's not happening, I won't allow it. You practically planned this thing! You have to go. I'm making sure of that."

"I'm not gonna go to prom by myself, Hop," Joyce huffed.

Hopper just chuckled. 

"It's a real good thing you're cute, Horowitz," he said, tapping her on the nose. "I'm not saying you have to go alone. I'm saying that maybe you and I could..." He trailed off, waiting for a reaction.

Joyce dark eyes were as wide as saucers, and her pretty pink lips formed an 'O' when she finally caught on.

"What… Wait, are you asking me to prom?" she asked.

It was Hopper's turn to roll his eyes at her now, knowing he would have to bite the bullet and properly ask her. He sucked in a steady breath.

"Joyce, will you go with me to prom?"

Joyce stomach flipped at his words. A smile slowly spread across her face as she watched his cheeks flush and turn ten different shades of red. When she was sure he had squirmed long enough, she spoke.

"Sure. Pick me up Friday, say… seven?"

Hopper exhaled.

"Seven. Yep. Got it," he said, grinning ear to ear like he couldn't believe his luck.

"It's a date!" Joyce giggled, albeit a bit nervously, not quite sure how to feel about it just yet.

Joyce's heart was beating fast, and her eyes were drawn to his lips and the way he licked them in anticipation as he leaned in. The porch light went on outside her house, and she was acutely aware that she was no longer staring back at the boy-next-door, the one she used to call her best friend. Her old crush -- the one she thought she buried so many months ago -- was back with a vengeance.

"Joycie-honey? Is that you?"

Her mother was standing in the yard in her bare feet, looking at the strange car parked in her driveway, a glass of wine in her hand, Virginia Slim in the other. Her middle-aged _suitor-du-jour_ in a disheveled suit wobbling out the front door close behind her.

"Shit, I gotta go," Joyce gathered herself and turned to grab the door, but Hopper stopped her.

"You sure? Looks like we're interrupting your mom's date."

"Yeah," Joyce breathed. She was sure. Her head was spinning, and she needed some time to process everything that had just happened. Besides, she had mud drying in places she didn't want to think about and was desperate for a shower. She brushed a spot of mud drying into dust on the passenger seat next to her thigh, making it worse.

"Look at me, I'm a mess."

Hopper chuckled, brushing a freckle of dried mud off the curve of her cheek.

"You could come over and get cleaned up at my place. Mom won't mind. I think I still have a pair of your old pajamas in my drawer from our last sleepover. Little pink hearts? With the frills on the sleeves," he smirked. "It'd be like old times."

Joyce blushed and pulled herself away, knowing it probably would not end up being like old times at all if she went over there tonight. Something was bubbling up inside of her, and she wasn't sure yet if it was excitement or panic at the thought of going on a date with Jim Hopper. Everything suddenly felt different now between them; up was down, black was white, and she needed more time to process it all.

"Everything okay?"

Concern crossed Hop's face for a second, worried he had done something wrong. She gave him a big, reassuring smile as she stepped out of his car. Her mom was walking across the lawn to them now, calling out with a slight slur in her words.

"Honey, what are you doing home so early? Whose car is that?"

Joyce turned back to Hopper feeling flustered, tongue-tied, and tried to keep the butterflies at bay.

"It's cool," she managed to squeak out to him, not at all keeping it cool. "See you later, alligator!"

Joyce closed the car door on Hop's bewildered, smiling face, and she somehow felt a little like Pandora, desperately trying to get the lid back on the box.


	4. Chapter 4

**"I don't know what you want me to tell you… Hopper asked… and I said yes!** Yeah, that's why I'm calling— I need to talk to you. When are you gonna be home? Okay. Well, no — no, oh my god, Karen! We didn't do _that_! "

Joyce was sitting in her room, hallway phone in her lap, the long cord woven around the bedroom furniture as she told Karen her news, and from her perch in her window she watched Hopper from across the street. Seeing him a whole new light.

The dirty blond stumbled out onto his driveway barefoot, squinting into the mid-day sun like he had just woken up. Bucket in hand and a sponge in the other, he made his way to the muddy car in the driveway. Wiping his wet hands on loose Wranglers that hung just-so off his hips, just a little below the hem of his shirt, it revealed the top of his boxers and a set of abs Joyce wanted to lick like hard ice cream. When he flipped the cigarette from behind his ear and lit it up, Joyce held her breath. And when he crouched down to soap up the sponge and wring it out, the water splashed up, soaking the bottom half of his shirt before he started to soap down the car, working over the car in a hypnotizing motion.

_Lord, have mercy._

Joyce's cheeks burned, and her stomach flipped wildly in her belly at the thoughts running rampant through her brain. It took all her strength to focus on the questions Karen was excitedly peppering her with.

The future Mrs. Wheeler was living it up at Ted's great aunt's house in the country for an afternoon luncheon of the utmost fashion to celebrate and introduce her to the extended Wheeler family — otherwise known as' a total snoozefest' in the young girls' eyes. Of course, Karen had dropped the finger sandwiches and sweet tea without a moment's hesitation when Mrs. Dawson called the Wheeler estate to say Joyce had called on Karen four times that morning, and she was starting to get worried something was wrong. Karen was the only one Joyce went to when she had boy problems, and this was the worst problem of them all… In fact, it was a red alert.

"Well," Karen said over the line. "What are you waiting for? You do want to kiss him, right?"

Joyce's heart skipped a beat at the image that flashed in her brain. "Uh, I hadn't really thought about it much until last night." She had to hold the phone away from her ear when Karen let out a cackle of laughter.

"I knew it! I totally knew it. You two are meant to be together."

Joyce could only groan at the thought, feeling half-amused but mostly annoyed. Karen had been harassing her and Hop to date since grade school, so she fully expected this reaction.

"And what about Lonnie?" Karen asked, managing to control her giggles a bit better.

Joyce's gaze across the street never faltered. Hopper was putting great care into washing his new baby, taking his time with the details, and driving Joyce absolutely up the wall.

She wasn't thinking about Lonnie anymore.

"What about him? I told you, he left me stranded at the drive-in last night, Karen."

Hopper was focusing his attention on the hood of the car now, his tall, bulky frame facing her house, and Joyce shielded herself behind the gauzy curtain. If he looked up right then, he'd see her peeking around the hem, like a conspicuous Harriet the Spy.

"Oh, that just means he likes you, don't you know?" Karen snorted. "I swear he did that to Debbie Wiser two years ago, and they went together for months afterward. Some girls go for that kinda treatment, I suppose. Not me, personally, but I mean, whatever floats your dreamboat, right?"

"And what a dreamboat he is," Joyce said sarcastically. "I highly doubt I'm in Lonnie Byers' good books anymore. In fact, I'm pretty sure that was the first time he'd ever been dumped! I'm serious, Karen. I really reamed him out, and I think I kinda embarrassed him."

"Ugh! Good riddance — he's a sleaze anyway. Oh, Joyce! I'm so gassed for prom now," Karen said trying to catch her breath from laughter, switching the subject back to more pleasant topics. "I can't believe Jim asked you out!"

"He didn't ask me out yet, Karen, he just asked me to prom. But, we can talk more when you get home tonight," Joyce choked on a giggle, the reality finally sinking in for her now. "Aren't I keeping you from your afternoon with great aunt whats-her-name?"

"Mildred," Karen replied. "And please don't hang up, I'm so utterly bored here, and I wanna hear more about how he asked you. Like, was he shy about it? Bold? Was it romantic? Oh, tell me, tell me, tell me!"

Joyce stayed silent, though, lost in a daydream. Hopper stopped what he was doing to run a soapy hand across his forehead then, and she practically melted.

Feeling her eyes on him, Hopper stopped what he was doing to look up just as Joyce ducked behind the curtain quickly, heart racing — _did he see her staring?_ After a moment, he started to whistle and dropped the sponge in the bucket, going back to work, training the hose on the car. Joyce was in the clear.

A tinny impatient Karen-voice shook her away from her fixation, as Joyce brought the phone back to her ear.

"Did you hang up on me? _You little bitch!_ "

When Joyce spoke again, she practically groaned into the receiver.

"I think I'm in trouble, Kare."

"What do you mean?"

Joyce gulped and started to pace the floor.

"I'm falling... Hard and fast and… and it's with him, of all people! I mean, how is that even possible? We're complete total opposites, y' know? We're both stubborn as hell—“

"Mhmm."

"We can barely go a single day without arguing…"

"I know," Karen sighed. "I'm the one who gets to listen to it, _re-mem-ber?_ “

"He's way too tall and too moody, and broody and… And he's been like a brother to me since I was five!"

"Hm, kinky," Karen muttered, but Joyce wasn't listening.

" _Oh my god_ , what is wrong with me, Karen?" Joyce groaned, holding onto the phone like a lifeline, finally realizing what it meant to be love-sick.

"Nothing," Karen said, matter-of-fact. "You're just in L-O-V-E with Jim Hopper!"

"Nope," Joyce shook her head, dragging her eyes off the guy in question and looking in the mirror at herself — cheeks flushed, barely breathing — a dreamy look on her face. "Not possible."

Karen laughed again and started singing, "Jim and Joyce, _sitting in a tree_ …"

Joyce bit her bottom lip. She was in trouble, and she was in deep.

  


  


Hopper was taking his sweet time with the GTO, enjoying the late-spring sunshine and a gentle warm breeze carrying a cheery little birdsong. He was whistling along and reading the instructions on the tin of carnauba wax when he heard his father's abrupt voice over his shoulder.

"My, my, my… That's a good looking vehicle, son," Jack Hopper said, crossing the lawn with a determined march leftover from his time during the war. "I'm pleased to see you're already taking such good care of the magnanimous gift your grandparents gave you."

Hopper nodded and threw his old man a proper salute. "Thanks, Pops! Figured I'd get a head start on keeping her tip-top."

"Oh?" Jack raised a bushy grey eyebrow. "It has nothing to do with escorting that girl across the street home last night? Looked like she'd been wrestling in the mud." He was avoiding saying her name.

Hopper raised an eyebrow too. He didn't know they had an audience last night.

"Well, yeah. Joyce had a bad night, so I offered to bring her home."

"You like her, don't you?" Jack scrutinized his son's reaction before he continued, "Be careful around girls like her, son. That one's gonna end up just like her mother if she's not careful."

Hopper frowned. Mrs. Horowitz had been quite close with his family when the kids were younger, but lately, it seemed like his dad had a thorn in his side when it came to Annette. Jim didn't dare say anything, having a feeling that his father was already in a mood, so he didn't interrupt.

"Your mother and I… well, we're real proud of you, son. I'll be honest, there was a moment where we both were worried you might not finish high school; dodging class and smoking the reefer was your top priority. But we're glad to see you've done a one-eighty, and clearly so have your grandparents. What a generous gift," Jack repeated, clicking his tongue at the car sitting in his driveway.

The younger Hopper interjected, trying to give credit where it was due.

"Well, y' know, I couldn't have done it without Joyce—"

"I appreciate seeing my boy carry out his responsibilities," Jack continued, breezing over what his son was saying. "That's just what a Hopper man does, we fulfill our obligations. To ourselves, our family… and our country."

Hopper felt the urge to roll his eyes but kept them trained on his father. He knew where this speech was going and that he'd better listen if he knew what was good for him.

"There comes a time in every boy's life where he must head out on a path toward the man he will become. I want you to think of that man in these coming weeks," Jack stepped closer to grip his son's shoulder now and looked him square in the eyes. "And I want you to ask yourself what that man's duty will be in this life."

"Duties, sir?" Hopper asked, still standing at attention.

"Well," his father said. "From what I've heard, the conflict in Vietnam is nowhere near over. In fact, it looks like the Army will need double the inductees by the end of this year. So, you have two choices here, son.

"You are more than welcome to get a job, move out after you graduate next week. Find a nice girl to settle down with, make a life for yourself, while you can," Jack said, implying something. "But then you got eight years."

"Eight years, sir?"

"You can be drafted until you're twenty-six, did you know that? Look at me, son. Do you think you can dodge the draft for eight years?"

Hopper shook his head slowly.

"No, you can't. Besides, that's sticking your head in the sand, taking the easy way out... and you know what I think of men who take the easy way out, don't you?

“Now, our other choice is you can head down to the SSO the minute you graduate where you will accept your duty to this country without a lick of hesitation like I did and all the good Hopper men before you have done. Save all that lovey-dovey crap for when you return to your country, a real man.

"It may be weeks or months, but when they call you, you will get it over with and be thankful you're not heading into the meat grinder like your grandfather's war," Jack said, punctuating his words by punching his son in the shoulder, once, where the sharp jab of reality would leave a bruise.

"Yessir," Hopper said, lowering his head and biting down on his tongue hard, until he was sure he would taste blood. There was no use in arguing with his father about Vietnam or any war for that matter. 

Jack nodded sternly, taking a deep breath and a step back, running a hand over his closely cropped greying hair. "Now, I promised your mother that I wouldn't force your hand on this, but I know which one I would pick if I were in your shoes.

"You have until the end of the month to figure it out," Jack raised his hand into a set of bullhorns at Jim. "Not a day more. Understand?"

"Yessir," Hopper repeated, but his eyes were drawn across the street where Joyce had stepped out on her front porch.

Jack followed his son's gaze to see Joyce walking over with a big smile on her face, completely unaware of the heavy conversation at hand.

"Get it out of your system now, boy, but screw your head on straight," Jack advised, making his way back into the house, leaving his son with something to think about. "A war is coming." 


	5. Chapter 5

  


**The week passed by in a blink of an eye, and suddenly, it was the day of Prom.**

Joyce could barely recall the last seven days. With the last of her major exams behind her, Pep club had taken top priority, and from Monday on, it was all a blur to put the finishing touches on Prom.

Karen took the lead on organizing the refreshments, acting as a liaison for the teaching staff who had volunteered to chaperone, assigning Joyce to decoration detail, and working with the AV club to ensure the live band was all set up. Joyce even got fifty dollars petty cash from the school secretary to buy the last of the balloons they'd need and the most confetti she had ever seen in her life (per Karen's direct order.)

She was also in charge of repairing and polishing the coveted Prom Court props — a paper mâché tiger head scepter and baby blue tiara — a task Joyce took real pride in, her glue gun at the ready. Those two items were Hawkins High legends, permanently on display in the halls, alongside all the awards and trophies the students had won over the years. Only the most loved, most popular claimed them at the end of each year. Two people sure to go down in Hawkins history, their names forever remembered on the plaque that accompanied them. It was the longest-running school tradition, and she took great care in her work, getting them ready for the King and Queen of 1965.

In fact, Joyce was so busy with preparations, she barely had time to see her date.

From her bubble bath, she glanced out the window now to catch a glimpse of his house. The light was on in Hopper's bedroom, where he was getting ready too, and a pang of guilt came out of nowhere and made her frown.

She had meant to devote some time to him this week — at the very least to go over his notes for the last of his final exams — but any effort she was able to put in was lacking. Pep had sucked up all her free time, and she felt bad for blowing him off. Regardless, Joyce still had faith in Hopper. 

Not to toot her own horn, but she was a good teacher when she had the right pupil. And for some strange reason, Hopper happened to be a fantastic student. He even said that Joyce got through to him better than any of the teachers at the school — especially Ratliff, whom he had a particular hatred for. Luckily, Joyce was a natural-born keener, and science was easy-breezy for her, so she was able to single-handedly saved Hopper's butt from flunking out of Mrs. Ratliff's class.

Joyce could say without a shred of doubt that Hop knew his stuff by now. In fact, he'd have to skip the test completely to bring his grade average down at this point, and she was darn-proud of that fact.

Still, she felt guilty for some reason. Hopper had seemed a bit off last weekend, and she never quite figured out why. She hated to pry, and of course he had put up his walls, so it was just easier to leave it to him to it and focus on the task at hand.

But now, the week they spent apart had made her want to see him more than ever.

Her heart skipped in anticipation of seeing him all dressed up in a proper suit and tie. Sinking down below the bubbles into the warmth, she wondered what kind of corsage he'd bring her, and if he was just as nervous as she was to see him.

She wondered if they’d kiss, and if he’d be the one to make the first move.

A knock on the bathroom door snapped her out of her thoughts. Her mother called out to her between the crack in the door.

"Joycie, baby. It's almost six. He's gonna be here soon!"

Butterflies tickled her tummy, and she hit the plug with her toe, watching the water spin down the drain like sand through an hourglass. There wasn't much time left now.

Everything she'd been waiting for… it was all finally happening.

  


"Wow," was all Hopper could say, his face turning ten shades of red as Joyce descended the stairs and walked carefully into the room, still unsure of herself in her mother's black stiletto high heel pumps. How anyone liked wearing these torture devices, Joyce would never know.

What Joyce did know, was that despite the constant wobble and feeling like she was about to roll an ankle, she looked damn good... Indigo taffeta sprung out at her hips, fluffy crinoline underneath. A black and blue bodice flowed softly around her shoulders, a sweetheart neckline revealing a bit more than she was used to. The dress was the fanciest, most expensive thing she owned, scrimping and saving for this exact moment she could walk down the stairs feeling like Cinderella. A touch of makeup only enhanced Joyce's natural beauty, and her big hazel eyes sparkled in the low light of the living room.

"How do I look?" Joyce asked, twirling for approval.

"You look beautiful, baby!" Annette snapped a picture of her daughter and then looked over to Hopper. "Don't she, Jimmy?"

Hopper gulped and nodded, too bashful to say something, for once in his life.

Hopper was decked out in all black, looking sharp in a three piece suit and tie, dirty blond hair slicked back but still threatening to fall in his eyes the second it got a chance. He looked positively dapper and Joyce was instantly smitten. She had never seen him look more handsome and she felt a flutter of nerves when she saw what he was holding for her.

"Is that for me?" Joyce asked, moving closer to him, motioning to the plastic box he was white-knuckling in his hands. Joyce giggled and handed him his boutonniere — a white rose and baby's breath. Joyce opened her box, revealing a big white gardenia; it filled the room with a scent that was heavier than heavenly. Hopper helped her put it on over her delicate wrist, and she attached the rose to his lapel, Annette snapping pictures as fast as she could.

"Okay, now a proper photo, please," she asked them. "One that I can frame! No, no, get in closer, you two. Jimmy, put your arms around her! She won't bite. Oh God bless, you make a sweet couple…"

Joyce blanched, and she shrugged Hopper's arms off her while he laughed nervously. Annette just smiled knowingly and took a sip from her drink, before she wagged a finger in Hopper's face.

"You behave, now," she said between hiccups, pinching his cheek, the scent of mint julep coming off her bright pink lips with each word. "And be sure to wrap it up if you need to. I'm far too young to be a grandmother."

"Ma!" Joyce groaned and grabbed Hopper by the sleeve, dragging him out into the night before her mother could embarrass her further.

"Well, it's true, Joycie! You'll both understand one day," Annette called after them. "Now, be home by midnight. Or I'll turn you both into pumpkins!"

"Pumpkins?" Hopper asked Joyce when they got out of earshot.

"She's been drinking since two. Ignore her," Joyce said, with a mischievous smirk, shaking her head as she spoke, curls bouncing wildly with each shake. "I don't plan on coming home til I'm good and ready."

Hopper opened the car door for Joyce, and they both stifled a laugh while Annette tried to sneak another picture or two with the Brownie camera from the lawn.

“Be good, my dears!" She waved her handkerchief with a sniff when it was clear they weren't sticking around to be photographed. 

The drive to the school was barely ten minutes, but Joyce and Hop made the most of it, feeling as glamourous as movie stars on their way to walk the red carpet at Grauman’s Chinese, dressed to the nines for the first time in their lives. Hopper turned the radio up, and they rolled the windows down, driving slow to save Joyce's hair from getting mussed. They shared a grin and a cigarette and a feeling in the air that tonight would be special.

They savored it, even as their youth slipped through their fingers as quickly as the breeze.

  


  


When they pulled into the parking lot of Hawkins High at a quarter past seven, it looked like the party was already well underway.

The lot was full of their classmates dressed up to the point of being almost unrecognizable, pulling up to the school in some of the snazziest cars they'd ever laid eyes on — no doubt borrowed from apprehensive parents. A small crowd had gathered at the front entrance to the school, with girls _ooh-ing_ and _ahh-ing_ over each other's dresses and comparing bouffants while the boys slapped each other on the back and puffed away on stolen cigars from their father's studies.

Music thumped away from inside of the school, the band already in full swing. Some of their classmates had already started a dance party on the sidewalk. If they could venture a guess, it looked like Joyce and Hop were in for a night to remember.

"Especially if I have anything to do with it," Hopper waggled his eyebrows.

Joyce grinned back, fiddling with the corsage on her wrist. She was bubbling with excitement for the night ahead.

Hopper opened the door once more for Joyce and held out his hand to her like Prince Charming, and she took it, feeling a bit more grounded just by his touch. They started to walk over to the gathering crowd when he held her back.

"Hey, you uh, got a garter under that dress?"

"James Edwin Hopper!" Joyce gasped and smacked his arm, not bothering to hide her smile.

"What? I'm not a perv!" he said, opening up his suit coat to show her the flask he had hidden there and nodded to the entrance where all the boys were being searched for contraband — booze, dope, fireworks. "Just don't want to get caught with this…"

"Fuckssakes, Hop," Joyce hissed under her breath, rolled her eyes up to meet his. "Cover me."

Quickly looking around to make sure no one was watching, she snatched the flask from his hands, but not before unscrewing the cap to take a swig, catching Hopper's disbelieving eye.

He was going to warn her, but before he could, Joyce knocked back the flask, her eyes going wide as the liquor hit her tongue with an unexpected bite.

"Cinnamon?" she coughed and sputtered.

"Schnapps," he said, snapping his fingers at the same time for her to give him the flask back so he could have some too.

She licked her burning lips and reached down for the hem of her dress while she waited for him to pass the flask back.

Hopper stood up pin-straight and opened his suit coat to block out the view from the rest of the parking lot, pretending to look for something deep in his pocket while she bunched her dress up around her thighs and leaned forward, giving him only a glimpse.

High up on her thigh, a black garter peeked out from under frothy baby blue tulle and indigo taffeta. Hopper couldn't help himself — he was staring. The sight of her red fingernails running over bare skin as she loosened the lace and tied the flask tight around her leg sent all the blood in his body due south.

He tried to keep focused, clearing his throat, double-checking that no one was around to see while she fastened the flask in place. When it was secured, she stood up abruptly, dropping her skirt back down and smoothing the fabric, making sure herself that they didn't have any witnesses. When she was satisfied they got away with it, she sighed and winked up at him with a cheeky grin.

Hopper had never seen anything so sexy in his short life. It looked like Ms. Goody Two Shoes was ready to explore her bad side some more.

"Ready?" Joyce asked with pep and reached for his arm — as if she wasn't about to smuggle booze into Prom under her dress.

"Oh yeah," he sucked in a breath as they headed towards the school's entrance, trying not to trip over his feet as he escorted her into the party. He couldn't take his eyes off her. "You look really pretty tonight," he said, finally working up the courage to tell her what he'd thought since she walked down the stairs that evening.

But Joyce didn't seem to notice the sentiment behind his words.

"Yeah, yeah, you can whistle for it." She grinned, slapping his chest before Karen caught her attention.

"Oh my god, Joyce! You look like Jackie Kennedy, only not as sad!"

Her best friend made her do a spin before settling her eyes on Joyce's date.

"Oh my… He cleans up nice, doesn't he?"

"I'm standing right here, Karen," Hopper cut in.

Karen giggled and grabbed her two friends by their hands, dragging them to the dance, Ted bringing up the rear.

"This is gonna be a trip. Let's go!"

  


The foursome entered the dance and Joyce's heart skipped a beat as she saw her vision, finally realized. Royal blue and silver balloons and streamers covered nearly every inch of the gym, even surrounding the stage set up in the middle where the band played. The AV club had the spotlights going, turning the boring old gymnasium into something glamorous, just for one night.

Karen fluffed her bouffant as they walked under the balloon arch, ready for her close-up in the school yearbook, looking for the photographers to take a snapshot of their entrance.

"How do I look, Ted?"

Ted looked over, giving her buttercup yellow chiffon dress a once over before replying, honestly and only in the way Ted Wheeler could:

"Like a beautiful, blonde… pineapple — What?"

Karen tossed her future husband a look that could kill, then promptly ignored him, pointing to the far end of the room and pulling at Joyce again like a little kid.

"Hm, I think our table is back here."

"Just wait, just wait. I wanna vote!" Joyce said, pulling back on Karen and pointed to the booth where a mousy girl with thick coke bottle glasses and headgear sat alongside her prom date: a skinny kid with freckles who seemed to be a year younger than all of them. Both looked slightly mortified to have to interact with Joyce and Karen and their dates.

"Hey, uh, Marissa, right?" Joyce asked, reaching for a pencil and a ballot.

The girl looked up at Joyce and nodded, confusion crossing her face as Karen interrupted, pulled Joyce away.

"Oh no, you don't want to do that…"

"Why not?"

"Because…" Karen shrugged, and bounced on her heels, looking everywhere but at Joyce. "I might have maybe nominated you guys for King and Queen…"

"What?" Hopper stepping away from his chit-chat with Ted and leaning down to get in Karen's face. "You gotta be tripping!”

"You didn't—" Joyce started and then looked down at the ballot in her hand. And there it was, sure as shit…

Their names were listed third down along with the usual suspects… the Jocks: Jim Williams and head cheerleader Connie Beavers; and of course there was Joe Harrington (and his flavor of the month, probably a junior girl, or even sophomore.) Joyce didn't even bother reading the rest of the names before she crumpled the ballot in her hand and threw it at her friend, a smile creeping up on her face despite herself.

_"You little bitch!"_

Joyce didn't know whether to be mortified or excited at the thought of being nominated. The idea made her giggle, but when she caught the disapproving look on Marissa's face, she wiped the smile off her face. Clearly, some people were taking the whole prom court thing very seriously.

"Have you lost your goddamned mind, woman?" Hopper crossed his arms and stared down at Karen.

Karen cackled. "Oh no, this is funny. Trust me."

"For you, maybe!" Joyce grumbled.

"You better pray we don't win," Hopper muttered to Karen. "Or you're gonna be sorry."

Karen looked up at Ted with a helpless expression.

"What? I'm not here to protect you," Ted said, hands raised in surrender to his fiancée as he simultaneously turned to Hopper with a shrug of indifferent innocence. "That was all her idea, I had nothing to do with it."

"Nah, you're good, Teddy," Hopper slapped the older man on the shoulder. "I know how your little lady rolls. Congrats on the wedding by the way. I think you've made a terrible mistake, but who am I to judge?"

"James Hopper!" Karen glared at him and grabbed Joyce by the hand. "Joyce! I need to check on the punchbowl. Now."

Joyce shrugged at her date and allowed Karen to drag her off, leaving Hopper alone with Ted and very little in common to talk about.

  


  


Debbie Wiser and the Chatty Cathies were sitting _on_ the refreshment table, much to Karen's horror.

There was nothing she could do, though — _no one_ told Debbie Wiser what to do unless they wanted a black eye and a piece of her bad reputation. That one had a interesting way of spinning everything on you to get herself out of trouble, and Joyce knew it was best to back off and leave her be.

"Chill…” Joyce mumbled under her breath to her friend as they approached. She could feel Karen holding back as she let go of her hand and grabbed a glass for herself before passing another off to Karen.

"Nice party, ladies," Debbie smirked. “Really classy.”

Joyce couldn't tell if she was being sincere or not. Deb was always so hard to read. A stone-cold ice-queen. There was no wonder why she dated Lonnie first -- she seemed to be just his type.

Joyce swallowed her pride and smiled back. "Thanks, Debbie! Glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself.“

"Yeah, well I'd be having a better time if our loser dates from Monroe didn't go missing every five minutes. But what you gonna do?" She shrugged and snapped her bubblegum and then poured a dark liquid in her punch from a small bottle she had been hiding in her purse. The Cathies commiserated, holding their glasses out too.

Joyce and Karen exchanged a look. Then Debbie turned to Karen and asked, "Punch?"

Karen hesitated, but Joyce nudged her, not wanting to slight their middle school bully when they seemed to be on her good side for a change.

"Ohh, Okay. Maybe just a little." Karen held out her glass, waving Debbie off after a splash of rum hit the rim.

Then Debbie turned, wiggling the small bottle in front of the shorter brunette's face. "Joyce?"

Without thinking, Joyce lifted the edge of her dress to show off Hop's flask. "No, thanks. I got my own."

"Oh my God, Joyce!" Karen scolded and grabbed her friend's skirt to put it back down before anyone else saw it.

Debbie raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow, cherry lips souring at the sight of the flask.

"Planning on sharing with the class?"

"It's not mine," Joyce shrugged, instantly regretting her decision to say anything. "Just holding for someone."

"Lonnie?" Debbie stood up now, arms crossed, looking over Joyce's head into the sea of people behind them, scanning the faces.

"No," Joyce said, unable to hide the sneer on her face at the mention of his name. "He couldn't make it tonight."

"Hm," Debbie sniffed. "That's too bad. Byers is a good time."

"Yeah, that's too bad, Joyce," Cathy echoed.

"Did you come alone?" the other Kathy asked, a look of pity on her face.

"Nope," Joyce said, confidence surging through her now, poised to blow the Chatty Cathies' minds. She left the notorious gossips hanging, grabbing her drink and Karen, taking the long way back to their dates.

  


Meanwhile, Hopper had found his friends in the corner of the room by the bleachers. Benny and Martin Sinclair and a few others from the varsity team were drinking beers they had snuck in, passing around the church key and a sloppy joint.

"Looks like Dick Clark threw up in here," Benny smirked as Hopper approached. “And look at you. Disgusting. What is this? Dippity-Do?” He raked a hand through Hopper’s hair and grimaced, wiping it off on his pants.

"What's shakin' Hop?" Martin asked, passing him his beer can and slapping him on the shoulder as he joined the group.

Hopper had to bite his tongue when Benny spoke again, making fun of the decorations. He wasn’t about to let Benny rain on Joyce’s parade. Thankfully, Ted was too busy being bored to notice what Benny was saying and defend Karen’s honor.

"Can you believe this American Bandstand bullshit? Feels like we're all on camera somewhere. I mean, what the hell is that supposed to be?” He pointed to the group of their classmates across the room, dancing wildly in a disorganized line.

"The Loco-motion," Hopper replied, before realizing what he was admitting to. "Joyce showed it to me a few weeks ago…"

"I bet she did," Martin snorted, a puff of smoke escaping with his laughter before he started to cough.

“I don’t know how you can think that’s fun,” Benny smirked, watching the couples dancing wildly across the floor.

Hopper rolled his eyes, taking a pull off the beer and handing it back to Martin before replying.

“That’s because no girls ever asked you, Dummy.”

Martin guffawed and then straightened up at what was headed their way.

“Damn, who’s that little foxy— oh shit, it’s Joyce. Check it out!” Martin slapped Benny and the guys to look.

“Nice one, Hopper!”

One of the lugs tried to high five him and while normally Hopper would’ve returned it, he was feeling annoyed — his friends were suddenly getting on his nerves. The sight of the girls coming back made him snap to attention, and he elbowed Ted to do the same.

"Hey, uh, you got the flask?" Hopper asked as they approached, feeling the urge for something a bit stronger than beer.

Joyce froze, and passed him her punch. Then she looked to all the young men surrounding her now, wolf-eyes fixated on her, and Karen, who was giving her that disapproving look again. She rolled her eyes and swiftly reached under her skirt — without showing any skin this time — and passed it back to Hopper without ceremony despite the low whistle Benny let out.

“Already got her bootin’ for ya, hey Hop?”

"Hey!" Karen interrupted, waving heavy smoke out of her face, realizing what the boys were doing over in the far corners by the bleachers. "You can't be smoking that in here!"

"Karen," Benny said, passing the joint back to Martin. "No one cares what you think."

“Ugh! Miscreants!" she grumbled, crossing her arms in front of her chest before a loud snap sounded above their heads. The entire class all looked up in time to see the netting hanging from the rafters let go and rain confetti down on their heads.

“No!” Karen shouted over the loud cheer that erupted, and stomped her feet. "That wasn't supposed to happen yet!”

She glared up at the ceiling where the confetti had let loose, and then at each person standing in the circle, sans Joyce. Then she glared at her fiancé.

" _Ted!_ ”

Ted sighed, knowing what was expected of him just by the sound of her voice.

“How about a dance, my love?”

“Yes, please! Joyce,” Karen called out over her shoulder. “Let’s get outta here before Jim’s idiot friends get us all thrown out!”

Joyce watched the pair walk off to the dancefloor with a wistful gaze, and then nudged Hopper with a smile

“Can we?“

Benny snorted back a laugh, and Hopper glowered at him over Joyce's head, turning to follow her friends. Reputation be damned -- he wouldn't let it ruin his perfect night for Joyce.

"Have fun _James_ ,” Benny teased, calling out after his friend before turning to Martin with a sad head shake for their fallen soldier.

"I told ya it wouldn't take long. She's already got him wrapped 'round her little finger."

This beautiful piece of fanart, brought to you by the ever-talented [@toart](https://toart.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Halfway through the night — after they had Hand-Jived and Twisted and Watutsi'd themselves into a hot, sweaty mess — two young lovebirds finally snuck outside to their spot under the steps to take a breather.** Neither had much to say right then, just enjoying the cool night air and each other's company, any awkwardness about their first date long gone. Now they were just having some plain old fun.

Joyce could feel her cheeks burning as she passed Hopper the cigarette, but it wasn’t just from all the dancing. His fingers brushed against hers, his blue eyes burning into her, cheeky grin pulling at his perfectly kissable lips. It looked like he wanted to say something, and Joyce was about to tell him to spit it out when they both heard their names echoing down in the halls, grabbing their attention.

_"Hey! Have you seen Hopper? Or Joyce?"_

Bob Newby was out of breath, running the halls looking for them. Hopper poked his head back in the school to call over the flailing Newby.

"Brain! What's shakin’?”

Bob stopped on a dime by the door, relieved to see them.

"You're up! They're calling your names! You're King and Queen!" he shouted, looking more panicked than excited.

Joyce's mouth dropped open, and Hopper coughed, choking on the smoke he inhaled. Both heads snapped to look at Bob as they spoke in unison.

_"Shut. The. Fuck. Up—"_

_"No fucking way—"_

Karen's little joke had suddenly gone way too far.

"No time! _There's no time!_ " Bob wheezed and shook his head at them, grabbing both by their arms and pulling them back into the school.

The trio ran down the hallways, careening off the lockers, with Joyce nearly breaking an ankle on the way towards the gym. Hopper shook Bob off after the last corner and let him run up ahead of them to give the Principal a heads-up he had found the missing highschool royalty.

"I don't know — no, I don't think they knew—“ Principal Jones said off-side to the Vice Principal, his words muffled, holding his hand over the mic at center stage. “Oh, here we go… yes, thank you, Bob. Alright. That's enough. No need for whispers!"

The Principal tapped the microphone to grab everyone's attention again and heads snapped back toward the stage.

“I’ve just been told the King and Queen have been found and are… _in the building_. Ladies and Gentlemen — your Prom King and Queen of 1965: the _late_ Jim Hopper and Joyce Horowitz!"

Their classmates cheered and whistled, at peak elation for the night, collectively turning to watch the spotlight operated by Bob hit them head-on.

They walked into the gym, lit up like deer in the headlights. Blinded and bewildered, the pair made their way to the center of the room to meet the Principal, all eyes on them. Joyce could hear someone cackling to her right and squinted into the crowd to see Karen next to the stage, waving at them and jumping up and down next to an unimpressed looking Ted.

“Yup. That's my best friend," Joyce mumbled under her breath, shaking her head at Karen. "I'll get her back for this, I swear."

"You better," Hopper mumbled back. "I don't know if I can live this down."

"Oh shut up," Joyce smacked him with a smirk as they approached the middle of the gymnasium and turned to the crowd, a single spotlight trained on them.

The Principal approached Hopper first, granting him the coveted Hawkins High tiger head scepter and a royal blue sash with the word _KING_ emblazoned on the front. Seizing the opportunity, Hopper did a little Elvis hip-wiggle that made some of the girl's shriek, and Principal Jones slap him on the back of the head. He couldn't help but laugh when he saw Joyce blush and roll her eyes at his antics.

Next, the Vice Principal placed a matching _QUEEN_ sash over Joyce and handed Hopper the tiara — a chintzy piece of costume jewelry donated to the school sometime in the early 50s. Joyce held it in her hands earlier that day and had wrinkled her nose at how old fashioned it was, but now the baby blue crystal twinkled under the lights, transforming it into a star-spangled crown fit for Ms. America. Hopper placed it on her head delicately, and Joyce's hands guided him down to be mindful of her coif.

Time seemed to slow down at that moment, the last of the silver confetti falling from the rafters like snowflakes in a perfect silence settling over the gym. All Joyce could hear was her heartbeat; all she could see was Hopper, and she took a steady breath, wondering what the hell they were even doing up there.

The King held his hand out to his Queen and she took it, hesitant at first, feeling nervous until his fingers laced with hers.

Every eye was on them as he guided her to the center of the dancefloor. The pair had rarely danced in front of an audience — usually just fooling around at Benny's after dark by the jukebox, when it was just them and their friends. But now the whole school was watching, and Joyce wondered if anything could ever be the same after this.

The band started to play the opening beats of their class song, and the lead singer leaned into the microphone to belt out the tune.

_When the night has come_

_And the land is dark_

_And the moon is the only light we'll see…_

At first, the dance was stiff, awkward as they struggled to find the groove, neither one used to a slower melody or so many spectators. Joyce tried taking the lead, making a face at him when he refused. Hopper shook his head at her, grinning like a fool as he took a step forward, dancing closer to her than ever before.

_No, I won't be afraid_

_Oh, I won't be afraid_

_Just as long as you stand_

_Stand by me…_

Hopper pulled Joyce tight in towards him, his hand firm on her lower back, leading her in their little waltz around the floor. Adrenaline coursed through them, both far too buzzed from schnapps and spiked punch, and the full attention of their graduating class to care about implications of their dance. Confidence surged through Joyce as she spun and dipped and swayed in his arms, feeling just like the Ginger to his Fred; like something out of a movie.

And when his arms were crossed over her head, her back to him, he lowered his head to her ear and asked, "Want to give 'em a show?"

Seventeen year-old Joyce Darlene Horowitz — who was raised on a healthy diet of Debbie Reynolds, Doris Day and Judy Garland — never could resist a chance to show off her moves.

The spotlight dance ended, and Hopper got the attention of the bandleader by tossing him the scepter. Joyce felt a twinge of nervousness as he made a request and she took in the crowd cheering and clapping and shouting their congratulations all around them. The band leader winked and shouted a name to his bandmates as  Hopper walked back to Joyce, hand outstretched once again; this time, in the mood for something a bit faster.

_"Lucille!"_

The heavy rhythm got everyone on the dance floor now.

Joyce resisted Hop's hand at first. Before she gave in, she kicked off her heels and took the tiara off, passing it over to Karen through the crowd who wore it proudly. Joyce quickly fell into step with her dance partner and it didn't take long before they attracted a small circle, the other couples more interested in watching their King and Queen’s shameless version of the lindy hop than on their own dance steps. The routine was etched into their brains. Hopper and Joyce knew this song like the back of their hands — hell, they'd probably spent five bucks in nickels at the jukebox over the last year just getting it right.

Hopper swung Joyce around, spinning and then flipping her over his shoulder with ease. They were so caught up in the dance, they could barely hear the crowd give a cheer when she landed the move and went right into another; cutting a rug in the hippest way, with the reckless abandon of someone who was living purely for the moment.

When the song finished and everyone was catching their breath, getting ready for the next number, Hopper pulled Joyce in close.

"Look at how happy they all are," he said, panting, looking around them at their smiling classmates and then pointedly back down at the girl in his arms. "You did that. Well, you and Karen… But I know it was mostly you. Next time you ever think about doubting yourself, even a little, I want you to remember this moment. Okay?"

Joyce, taken back by his praise, beamed up at him and slowly nodded over hitched breath. She wanted to kiss him, more than anything she'd ever wanted before, and she could tell he did too.

But not here. Not in front of everyone.

And so when another song started up, and no one was looking, she pointed his attention to the side exit, and they ducked out, leaving their friends behind in search for a bit more privacy.

Joyce's giggles filled the night air as they made their Irish exit out the side gymnasium doors. She slipped on her heels and then pulled at the sash, letting it go in the breeze. Hop had taken out the flask again and was waving it in the air singing along to the music fading behind them.

They strolled to his car, in no rush to get to the far end of the parking lot. Crickets chirruped in time with the fireflies that lighted their path along the edge of the football field, while the milky way glowed above. The scent of the gardenia on her wrist floated sweet on the night air. Joyce felt like a total lush, hypnotized by her surroundings in this exact moment, and by the boy beside her.

Her hand found Hopper's easily, and they spoke of the night's events, laughing until they were both in tears about the mutual embarrassment Karen had inflicted on them.

"Despite her twisted idea of a funny joke, tonight was kinda… perfect," Joyce sighed as they reached his car, and she found a comfy spot to sit. Hopper leaned against the hood so she could rest her head on his chest, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

"Well, it's not over yet," Hopper chuckled, showing her his watch. "It's barely eleven, and I don't have to have you home until midnight."

Joyce grinned, and Hop sighed, planting a kiss on her temple, something he’d never done before. Then he moved in closer, a bit awkward at first, leaning his head down more until his lips were on her cheek. His breath smelled of schnapps and tobacco, and a lingering scent of Old Spice aftershave.

Joyce's whole body tingled when she realized what was happening: he was leaning in to kiss her. She froze.

Did she really want this? Hell yes. But did she fully understand the consequences? What this could do to their friendship?

_Did he?_

In that exact moment, Joyce didn't care. Everything else faded away, there was only him.

Hopper cupped her cheek and tilted her head up to meet him halfway, his lips grazing hers, testing the waters.

It didn't take long before she felt herself move with him, lips brushing and barely touching in an agonizing dance, building momentum. His hand found the back of her neck, and he pulled her further into the embrace, smiling into their kiss when a little moan escaped her.

_Holy shit_ — her eyes flew open as she realized — she was kissing Jim Hopper!

It wasn't the first time. There was that short but sweet peck on the lips playing spin the bottle at Karen's eleventh birthday party, being cheered on by their friends to their mutual horror.

Hell, it wasn’t even the second time… Seven Minutes in Heaven (aka the broom closet at Joe Harrington’s fifteenth birthday) took that title. Yet another prank played on them by Karen, trying to push them together but the joke was on her — nothing much came of that kiss, either.

Maybe the third time was the charm?

This time, it sent delicious shivers from Joyce's head down to her toes and back again. She melted into him, eyes fluttering closed once more. His lips tasted sweet, like cinnamon and his wandering hands made her weak in the knees. His tongue dipped into her mouth, and she let him explore it further. The kiss was soft but eager all the same, like he was desperately trying to hold himself back. She didn't know it could be so different from Lonnie or the other (forgettable) boys she'd kissed before, who'd always just forced themselves on her, never taking the time to give her what she wanted or go slow to make sure she was enjoying it, too.

Hopper's hands slipped down to her waist, where he stopped, pulling away then, just barely. Letting his kiss hover around her lips. Fast, shallow breath pacing hers. He took his time, playing with the hem of her dress, pausing to silently ask permission.

Joyce pressed her whole body up and into his embrace with a new energy, wrapping her legs around him, pulling him close to her — his official invitation.

Hopper's smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he slipped his hands up underneath her dress, his fingers tickling their way up her thighs until they reached lace. He played with her garters, slipping under the ribbon, suddenly exploring new territory. 

Joyce was so lost in it all, that she didn't hear the footsteps approaching.

_"What the fuck is going on here?"_

Hopper and Joyce broke away, turning to see a distraught looking shadow, standing there not ten feet from the GTO.

"Joyce?"

Lonnie's voice betrayed his heartbreak. Like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Lonnie!? What are you doing here?"

Joyce instinctively brought her hand to her mouth, trying to obscure any evidence of what had happened, though it was no use — pale pink lipstick smeared around her lips. The world was spinning around her, and she braced herself against the car. As she waited for Lonnie to reply, her stomach churned. She didn't know if it was from seeing him, the liquor, or the adrenaline of being caught in the heat of the moment. Maybe all three.

Lonnie swayed and stumbled a bit as he took a step forward into the light, and he looked down at the beer bottle in his hand and back at Joyce. He was dressed up in a formal suit coat with a skinny tie over his usual jeans. His arms hung by his side in a look of defeat, a corsage box in his left hand dangling by his fingertips.

"I went to your house ‘round eight to pick you up, but your Ma… she said you already left."

"Lonnie, I—" Joyce started, but she didn't get to finish.

"I thought you wanted me to go with you to this stupid thing?” he asked, throwing the corsage on the ground at her feet, a wasted effort.

Joyce glanced at the box, guilt creeping in at the sight of it. She could feel Hopper’s hand grazing her lower back, as if he could read her thoughts and it reminded her she had nothing to feel bad about.

“I figure, okay, maybe I fucked up the time, so I show up here to find you… with Hopper? Seriously?" Lonnie continued, his anger mounting at the realization of who was wearing his girl's lipstick. “ _I fucking knew it!_ I knew there was a reason we stopped being friends. Y’know, out of all the dudes, I trusted you with her the most, man!" 

Lonnie growled his words at Hopper, dark eyes shining with a fury Joyce hadn't seen on him before.

Hopper stood up now, puffing his chest out. His brow furrowed, jaw set. "And I trusted her with _you_!"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Making her walk back to town from the Starlite? That's cold, Lon. Even for you."

"Is that what she told you? _Really?_ She wanted to walk. Told me to fuck off," Lonnie said, stepping closer towards Joyce. "Tell him, Joyce!"

Hopper stood his ground, taking a step toward Lonnie to get in front of Joyce.

"Just own up to it, man. You're an asshole."

Joyce held her hand up to interrupt, not ready to let Hopper fight her battles just yet. Both guys stopped and turned to look at her, allowing her a chance to speak.

"Lonnie,” Joyce said his name and then took a deep breath before she laid into him. "What the hell are you even doing here? I’m pretty sure I broke up with you last week. No— _let me talk!_ This is exactly why we can't be together. You don't listen to me. You never have! Dating you's been like… dating Dr. Jekel! I never knew when I'd be getting Hyde—"

"What the hell are you even talking about?” Lonnie sneered, interrupting anyway.

"Ugh! Read a book, Lonnie!" Joyce sneered back, giving up on speaking her piece, rolling her eyes at her ex.

"Let me know when I can knock his teeth in, Joy," Hopper muttered under his breath to her, perfectly aware Lonnie could hear him, and never taking his eyes off the increasing threat.

"Oh yeah. Look at this _tough guy_. You think 'cause you got a shiny new car, you can just steal my girl? You think you can take me?”

Lonnie was pacing now, his fist tightening around the neck of the bottle still in his hand. He chuckled to himself, staring his opponent down.

“We're not doing this," Hopper said, sounding tired as he crossed his arms. He didn’t want to have to kick Lonnie's ass, not after everything he went through to make tonight perfect for Joyce. But if Lonnie insisted... 

"What are you gonna do? Call your old man to come save you? Gonna have him arrest me?" Lonnie wagged the empty bottle in front of his face, glaring at his childhood friend turned new worst enemy, old wounds reopening under the influence. "Hey, you think your Pops still remembers when he arrested my old man, right in front of me?"

Hopper cocked his head. "Which time?"

Lonnie growled, whipping the bottle at Hopper's head. Hopper ducked, and it smashed off the wheel well of the car, dark glass ricocheting and barely missing Joyce's bare legs. Rage flashed red across Hopper's face, and the fight was on.

He lunged at Lonnie, only to have Lonnie's knuckles shoot up at the last second and connect with his jaw, thoroughly ringing Hopper’s bell. He saw stars and heard Joyce cry out as he pitched forward, trying hard to keep his balance. When he threw all his weight forward in a blind swing, and with a little bit of luck, he hit Lonnie square in the face, feeling the other guy’s nose break under the velocity of his fist.

Lonnie took the punch surprisingly well in his stupor — he didn't even cry out as bones crunched and blood sprayed from his nose. Rushing forward with a growl, he tackled Hopper, knocking him clean off his feet.

“Christ, almighty. Stop it! _Right now!_ ” Joyce hollered at them, keeping her distance from the two young bucks as a new visceral violence took over.

This wasn't one of their usual tussles, where they’d walk away before it got out of hand leaving with a few bruises and damaged egos. Neither one was holding back now — this looked more like they were getting ready to kill each other, all in Joyce's honor.

She would've been more flattered if it weren't so horrifying to watch.

Blood was dripping off the end of Lonnie's battered nose as he jumped on top of Hopper, holding him down against the pavement, getting ready to continue the beating with an unfair advantage.

_"Lonnie, stop!"_

The sharp sound of Joyce's voice rang out across the empty parking lot, grabbing Bob's attention. He'd been sent out to track them down, and was starting to feel annoyed that they had run off again.

This time he was supposed to take their picture for the yearbook, and of course, after only the first few dances, they were nowhere to be seen. He had seen them duck out the side door so he looked there first, only finding the discarded Prom Queen sash on the steps behind the gymnasium. That led him out to the parking lot where he saw Joyce standing over two grunting, cussing shadows tussling on the pavement.

"Joyce!" Bob called out to her, but it was useless — she couldn't hear him. He looked around him in a panic, before he realized he couldn’t exactly play the hero. The best he could do was grab the nearest teacher and the attention of some classmates.

And, so Bob waved his arms and shouted.

"Hey! There's a fight. In the parking lot!"

He didn't bother to wait before running back in time to see Joyce in her pretty blue dress, leaning over a tangle of arms and fists, screaming at the top of her lungs for the two boys to stop. As he drew closer, he watched helplessly as the scene played out in front of him, unable to help, and somewhat aware that a crowd was forming behind him on the sidewalk now. They were chanting.

_Fight!_

_Fight!_

_Fight!_

Lonnie drew back his fist, teeing up Hopper's nose in retribution when he felt his knuckles unexpectedly connect behind his head. Joyce cried out in pain as Lonnie hit her in the face. The force sent her careening back into the car with a cry, the heel snapping off her stiletto as her ankle rolled.

That was what it took for both boys to stop wrestling with each other and they both watched the girl they loved fall to the ground, broken like a china doll.

Hopper was the first to move, pushing Lonnie off of him and calling out her name as he scrambled to his feet. Lonnie got up off the ground, watching them with a sickened look as the Hopper tenderly checked Joyce’s face and then her ankle.

"Hop," Joyce whined quietly, reaching for him with one hand and touching her face gingerly with the other.

She was hurt.

Hopper glared up at Lonnie — he was gonna have to pay for that one.

He ran at Lonnie, grabbing him by the collar. Lonnie swung at him with all his might, but Hopper held him at a distance, dodging his shots, getting ready for another round.

"Joyce!"

Karen flew out of nowhere and rushed forward to help pick Joyce up off the ground, Ted standing guard just behind, his fists at the ready.

That's when Joyce noticed their audience… The Class of 1965 had spilled out of the gymnasium at the news of a fight breaking out and now they surrounded the GTO in the parking lot, witness to Lonnie and Hopper beating the crap outta each other. Both were utterly oblivious to the crowd as they traded blows and curse words.

“Hopper!" Joyce called out to him again, desperate, trying to get his attention when she realized that they were in trouble.

Someone else noticed too and yelled over the crowd to a roar of laughter and jeers.

_"Everybody act cool! Teachers!"_

Mr. Cooper came storming out between the students, waving his hands, as if that would stop the fisticuffs.

"Hey! Hey, break it up!"

_"What is going on out here?"_

Principal Jones' voice boomed like a drill sergeant over the din, the only thing to grab their attention. Both boys froze at the sound and then backed off, realizing they were done for. Hopper stood still, backed on the edge of the shadows as Lonnie paced under the lights like a wild animal waiting to be tossed in a cage.

"Nothing much, Jonesy,” Lonnie spat at the Principal’s feet and gave the old man a bloody grin. “Just admiring Hop's new wheels.”

At the sight of the delinquent, Principal Jones stood his ground, narrowing his eyes on Lonnie, disgust or maybe disappointment written all over his face.

"Mr. Byers! You were warned about being on school property."

That seemed to knock Lonnie down a peg or two. He straightened up, and wiped his nose with a grimace and turned to go.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going. No need to call the pigs,“ Lonnie glowered. He raised his hands in the air, stating his innocence and Joyce finally let go of the breath she was holding.

But Lonnie slowed down as he passed by the car, getting a good look at it now. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something to Joyce but Karen and Ted stood in the way, shaking their heads at him to back off.

Lonnie smirked. He couldn't help himself, so he turned to his other target.

“Lookie what Daddy Hopper bought his precious _James_. Who knew being a _Pig_ paid so well?“ he taunted Hopper, letting out a low whistle. “That is one primo ride, man.”

Hopper wiped the blood off his mouth with his knuckles and then cracked them.

"Yeah, your girlfriend's a primo ride in the back seat, too,” he muttered with a smug smile, despite the heat coming off his split lip. Hopper knew what he said wasn't right — Joyce hadn't been in the backseat (…yet), but he had a hunch it would get under Lonnie's skin all the same.

And he was right. Lonnie lunged for him once more.

“Damnit, Jim!" Joyce hollered his name to make him stop, but there was no use.

The fight started up again to the roar of the crowd, their peers cheering them on despite the teachers trying to break them up.

" _Please_ … stop!” Joyce called out again, wincing, holding onto Karen, hobbling on her bad ankle towards the fight, but Ted held her back.

That's when the Principal and Mr. Cooper finally stepped in to break them up. A few other teachers and parents shooed the rest of the disappointed crowd away.

Lonnie managed to slink away without anyone seeing except Joyce, who watched him cross the parking lot into the football field, almost feeling sorry for him until he passed the group of students smoking under the scoreboard. A few gave him some high fives, another gave him a beer and a light, and then Debbie Wiser stepped out from the group and sidled up to him in her unmistakable little red wiggle-dress, wrapping herself around Lonnie. 

"I heard there's an after party at the quarry tonight. Let's go! It's gonna be miles better than this dullsville prom!" Debbie said with an air of haughtiness, her words barely audible to Joyce over the jumble of the crowd. Joyce felt her stomach twist again as Debbie fawned over Lonnie's broken face, the two of them walking arm-in-arm across the dark field towards his T-Bird.

"Well, well, if it isn't the prom king. Mister Hopper!" Principal Jones turned toward the group by the GTO then. "Why am I not even remotely surprised? I'm sure your father will have something to say about this."

Hopper’s eyes went wide at the prospect of his old man picking him up from Prom and the whoopin' he was sure to get when he found out he’d been fighting with the Byers boy again. The Principal stepped closer, showing some empathy, he continued, to Hopper's great relief:

"I won't call him tonight, but I want you to come see me in my office first thing Monday morning. We can discuss how we are going to handle this. _As adults._ “

"Yessir," Hopper lowered his head, thankful for small miracles, not even bothering to try to get out of it this time.

"You too, Miss Horowitz." Principal Jones locked eyes with Joyce, who was still clutching her cheek, and Hopper watched her face cloud over.

"Miss Dawson?"

"I'm just taking care of Joyce!" Karen squeaked.

"She wasn't here when this happened. Sir," Ted spoke up, throwing an arm around his little lady and giving the older man a polite nod.

"Who the hell are you now?" Jones asked, squinting at Ted over his glasses, before sputtering his disapproval of everyone standing in front of him. "Never mind, I don't care. You two, see me in my office, Monday, eight-thirty sharp."

The King and Queen of Hawkins shared a worried look between their broken faces. The perfect night was over; their fates were sealed — and it was all thanks to Lonnie-fucking-Byers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hopper dropped Joyce off at her front door at midnight on the dot.** She had asked him to help her inside so she didn’t wake up her mom, and he wound up sleeping over — just as a “friend” of course — in his old sleeping bag spread out on her bedroom floor. Her “friend” also didn’t have pajamas that fit him there, so he opted to shamelessly strip down to his boxers instead. 

Joyce had turned away at first to give him some privacy as he crawled inside, but she couldn’t help herself -- a simple glance at the mirror from where she sat on the bed was enough to make her turn fifty shades of red and hide her face under her blanket until her cheeks stopped burning. Between the nagging ache from her injuries, the thoughts racing through her head, and the temptation to call him up on the bed with her right then and there, Joyce barely got a wink of sleep that night and the next morning, she woke with a splitting headache. 

Once Annette saw her daughter hobbling to the kitchen and the shiner that was forming under Joyce’s left eye, she loaded her into the car and took her straight to the doctor. A quick diagnosis of a sprained ankle and a trip to the pharmacy for Aspirin, saw Joyce back at home on the couch before eleven a.m. where she got settled in front of the television with a bag of frozen peas on her ankle and an icepack on her face, feeling quite sorry for herself. 

Hopper stumbled down the stairs soon after the Horowitz women got home from the doctor. Annette acted surprised to see him coming down despite the fact his car had been parked in the driveway next to hers that morning. Joyce just rolled her eyes at her mother’s theatrics and asked her to make her special french toast brunch for them as they settled into a blanket fort on the couch to watch T.V.

“What’d your mom say when you told her what happened?” Hopper asked Joyce after brunch.

She shrugged. “Not much, just _‘boys will be boys.’_ She was proud of you for sticking up for me, though. Gave me shit for getting in between you two.”

“She mad about her shoe?”

“Nah,” Joyce waved a hand. “Gives her an excuse to shop. Randy’s taking her to Indy this afternoon to buy a new pair or two with his fancy-schmancy credit at Ayr-Way.”

As if on cue, her mother appeared in the entryway, clipping on her earrings and adjusting her hat in the mirror, looking like Holly Golightly trapped in middle America. A horn honked outside, and Annette blew kisses to her two hooligans babying their mutual bruises on the couch before she left, leaving them alone for the rest of the day. 

They sat on the couch in silence, her legs up across his lap, until they heard the car pull out of the driveway, and that’s when Hopper grabbed the remote out of her hand to switch the channel. Joyce tried to snatch it back, but he kept it out of her reach.

“I’m watching _Bewitched_! Hop!” she squealed, desperate to find out what happened to Darrin and Samantha. 

Hopper tried not to laugh as she struggled against him to get the remote back with her limited mobility, and without losing her balance on the couch.

“Joyce. I’m watching _Bonanza_.” 

She went for his ticklish spot, right under the ribs, and he tried to squirm away, keeping the clicker out of her reach, knocking her off his lap in the process. 

“Ow!” Joyce whined, giving him a dirty look before getting comfy again.

“Oops!” Hopper smirked. “Want me to kiss it better for you?”

She started to laugh but stopped, unsure if he was messing with her or not. Then she smirked too and gave a little nod, calling his bluff. Sure enough, he lifted the bag of peas off her foot and bent his head down to gingerly press his lips to the top of her bandaged foot, careful to avoid the tender spot on her ankle. Joyce shivered at his touch, and he felt it, glancing up to catch her looking flushed and a little embarrassed. 

Joyce reached for him and brushed her finger over the cut on his lip. He winced, and she grimaced.

“Poor baby... Does it hurt?”

He frowned. 

“Not as much as my pride. Man, I’d really like to punch his lights out for good. Maybe you could call Lonnie over this afternoon, and we can finish what we started…”

She poked him in the mouth to get him to shut up and he winced again, before slinging her a dirty look back. 

“Want me to kiss it better?” she asked, an eyebrow raised. 

Joyce wasn’t about to ask Hopper twice, so she leaned forward slowly and gently pressed her lips to his, peppering soft little kisses all around the hurt Lonnie had caused, hoping that he got the hint. 

He won, and Lonnie lost, and that was that. 

Soft, tantalizing kisses turned into the eagerly anticipated sequel to the night before. Joyce could tell they were on to something good. It was in his kiss; a gentle touch; the way his blue eyes twinkled when he looked down at her in his arms. It brought back those damn butterflies in the best possible way and captured them in a net in her chest, where she never wanted to let them go. In fact, she was starting to love the idea of being Hop’s girl... 

And right there on the couch, without even thinking twice, Joyce Horowitz passed second base and rounded in on third with Jim Hopper.

A few hours later, after a well-deserved nap on the couch, Hopper woke to the warm afternoon sun casting orange shadows across the living room, the quiet hum of the television on mute and Joyce staring blankly out the front window, chewing on her thumbnail.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and pushing himself up to get a better look at her.

“Nothing,” she replied, not looking at him, hiding a frown behind her hand. “I’m just worried about Monday.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Never been called to the office before.”

“Pft, it’s a cakewalk, trust me. There might be some ass-kissing and admitting we were wrong, but just follow my lead, and you’ll be fine. It’s not like they’re gonna suspend us with one day left, right? So, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Right,” Joyce breathed. And Hop was right — the year was over. They’d likely get a stern tongue lashing from Jones, be required to write an apology letter or something equally annoying, and then they’d be free. At least that’s what she hoped.

Joyce took a deeper breath.

“Your dad’s standing on your driveway looking over here, y’know.” 

Hopper perked up.

“Yeah? How’s he look?”

“Pissed,” she said pointedly.

“Good,” Hopper grinned and motioned for Joyce to join him on the couch. “C’mere.” 

Joyce wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible come Monday morning. Her mission was to get in and get out, finish up her last day of school with as little fanfare as possible and forget the last week ever happened — but that mission was practically impossible when she walked in after eight a.m. 

Everyone from the teachers to the support staff, right down to the wide-eyed freshmen, they all turned to look as she walked through the side door. Her fellow seniors -- all the first-hand witnesses to the Fight of the Year -- were fueling the fire and fanning flames. Joyce could see them, people she used to call friends, pointing and whispering as the older students gave the younger ones a play by play of what they missed on Friday night. They might as well have robbed a bank at gunpoint Bonnie and Clyde style, with all the attention this was getting.

Debbie seemed to be waiting for Joyce across from her locker when she walked up. The tall brunette sneered, amused by the sight of the shorter girl nursing her bad ankle.

“Your majesty,” Debbie said, giving Joyce her best curtsy with a side of sass. “Queen of Hawkins… or more like the gas station?”

The chatty Cathies and some stray tag-a-longs snickered behind her, and Debbie watched with glee as Joyce fought back the words she wanted to say. But when Joyce refused to bite, Debbie instantly got bored.

“Lonnie said to say hi,” she said, snapping her gum at Joyce and moving on to her next target. 

Joyce sank back into the lockers next to Karen, her bookbag pressed tight to her chest, fighting the sinking feeling that accompanied her new notoriety. 

“Yeesh," she winced, “I didn’t realize I was so popular.” Looking to the magnetic mirror in Karen’s locker, she brushed her bangs to the side and down to hide the lingering welt on her cheekbone. 

“Here,” Karen sighed, passing Joyce her makeup compact. “Blend.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Yes, and… I am so sorry,” Karen said, looking white as a ghost as Joyce tapped the makeup over her cheek. “I never meant for the whole Prom court nomination thing to get out of hand…”

“No! Oh my god, Karen,” Joyce sighed, wanting to shake her sweet dear friend for thinking that way. “Lonnie was the unexpected and very unwelcome surprise of the night. You didn’t cause this mess, trust me. As mortifying as it was, winning ended up being the highlight of my night. And it kinda led into a perfect weekend too, so… I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thank you.”

“Oh,” Karen’s eyes went wide. “You mean like… you and Jim? Well, then. Maybe you should tell me all about it? Sleepover at my place tonight?”

“Sure,” Joyce breathed, thankful Karen just wanted to talk about something normal and forget the whole Lonnie thing happened. 

“Hey, it’s time for our date.” Hopper interrupted, grabbing Joyce to escort her to her very first and last visit to the Principal’s office. “Gotta go get our hands strapped. See ya ‘round, Karen.”

“Wish us luck,” Joyce mumbled as they turned to go.

“Luck!” Karen called out after them cheerily, feeling amused, but a bit perplexed. When she turned back to cleaning out her locker, she spoke aloud to no one in particular. 

“They make an... odd couple.”

They were sitting in the chairs in silence, listening to the muffled strains of the Star-Spangled Banner playing throughout the classrooms as they waited in the front office to be called in to see the Principal. Joyce rolled her eyes while Hopper yawned and cracked his neck, neither interested in standing for the anthem or pledging allegiance on their last day. It was eight-thirty on the dot when the door swung open in front of them.

“Morning, Joyce. Jim.”

Both sat up a bit straighter until they realized who it was.

“Oh, hey, Bob.” Joyce relaxed a bit at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?”

He raised the paper in his hand and pointed to the microphone sitting on the desk. 

“Here to read the announcements. As per usual.”

Joyce breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, he was here to read announcements… Bob might’ve been witness to their fight, but he wasn’t the type to rat someone out.

“What’re you doing here?” Bob asked, sitting down at the desk and then realized. “Oh. I uh—”

“It’s okay.” Joyce shrugged, feeling a wave of nausea hit her again. She didn’t want to talk about it, so she just repeated, “We’re okay.”

“Sorry,” Bob winced. Joyce forced a small smile at her classmate and then stole a glance at her partner in crime, who was leaning back in his chair, counting tiles on the ceiling now, oblivious to the exchange going on.

“James?” Ms. Driscoll, the older school secretary, motioned for Hopper to follow her.

“I— uh, I thought we’d be going in together.” Hopper straightened up and looked to Joyce. 

“No, Principal Jones wants to speak to you. Ms. Garcia will be seeing Joyce in a minute or two.”

The squirmy ball of nausea that had crawled up Joyce’s chest finally dropped down to the pit of her stomach. 

“Ms. Garcia?” she squeaked out.

“Yes,” Driscoll nodded matter of fact. “James, follow me.”

Hopper stood up and gave Joyce a sorry look before he disappeared down the hall.

Three chimes sounded, and Bob cleared his throat before turning the microphone on.

“Good moooooorning, Tigers! Welcome to the last day of school, and for most of us seniors, that means forever,” Bob spoke, pausing as a cheer rang out across the hall from a senior homeroom.

“Even though today is the official last day of school, the staff kindly remind you that lockers must be cleaned out by this Thursday. If you wait ’til Friday, it’s no longer considered yours…

“Prom Committee would like to thank the teacher and parent volunteers for all their help last Friday night. Prom was… an absolute success. Sincere thanks go out to both the Pep Club and Committee from Hawkin’s Seniors for making it a night to remember.” Bob winced at his prewritten words biting him in the ass and throwing a glance at Joyce, who was thankfully lost in thought.

He continued, “If you haven’t signed up for the charity blood drive happening tomorrow afternoon at the senior fun fare in the parking lot, you have until noon today. See Nurse Patricia for details…” 

“Joyce?” The younger secretary approached with a whisper, motioning for the girl to follow her. “Ms. Garcia will see you in Vice Principal Miller’s office now.”

Bob looked over to Joyce and caught her eye as she stood up to go in. She gave him another half-shrug as if to say ‘don’t worry about it.’ He could only offer her his simple, reassuring smile as he finished the rest of the announcements, reading off-script.

“Looks like this will be my last announcement for the year and well… ever, I guess,” Bob chuckled softly to himself, speaking to his captive audience. “Now, I know some of you might be happy about the fact this gets me outta your ear, but for me, it’s a bit of a heartfelt moment. I just have to say it one last time… Go Tigers!” 

Then he took a breath before signing off, once and for all. 

“This is Bob Newby, President of the Hawkins AV Club. Over and out.”

Ms. Garcia had only arrived at Hawkins’ in the second half of junior year, but she transformed high school for a lot of her art students. For Joyce, in particular, it became something more than an easy elective to fill in her grades. The silly little crafts she had worked on in her free time at home suddenly transformed into beautiful and unusual installations, creations she was darn proud of. She threw herself into her artwork, an outlet for all the teen angst bullshit, and quickly rose to the top of the class, all in thanks to the teacher.

The youngest of the faculty, Ms. Garcia was positively en vogue compared to the rest of the teachers at Hawkins High. Her clothes were always beatnik cool. She was never without her cat-eye glasses and a bright pop of color on her lips, to the great displeasure of the older staff. A strong woman who wore her passions on her sleeve, she fought the patriarchy regularly, either by organizing the small local rallies and marches, or through her own art, which she proudly displayed behind her desk. No man told Carmen Garcia what to do.

Needless to say, she was Joyce’s favorite teacher. Which only made this punishment worse.

Ms. Garcia looked different today. Her normally red lips were bare, her short brown bob pulled up in a bun on her head, and she wore a troubled look as Joyce took a seat across from her in the Vice Principal’s office. 

“Joyce,” she started, looking over the rim of her black cat-eyes with a confused look on her face. “What happened?”

Joyce couldn’t help it and she started to blubber, hating to think she had disappointed her mentor in such a way. But Ms. Garcia quickly defied her expectations and stepped around the desk, her bright white handkerchief at the ready, to kneel down beside Joyce. 

“Oh, sweetie, no. Don’t cry. Just tell me what happened.”

Joyce took her hanky and wiped her eyes. Then she sniffed, throwing the teacher a worried look. 

“I only heard about it from Principal Jones’ perspective. I haven’t heard your side of the story yet, and I’d like to hear it.” Ms. Garcia leveled with her. “Please?”

So Joyce recounted the night of Prom briefly for her, tracing the yellow daffodil embroidery of the handkerchief over and over in her hands as she glossed over the details, until they got to the part where Lonnie ruined everything. 

“I feel partially responsible here.” Ms. Garcia stood up and sighed, pacing around the small office. “I knew that boy was trouble, but I didn’t feel it was my place to say anything. But I could see the warning signs a mile away, and I should have stepped in when I had a chance. I failed you in that regard.

“And that’s why I’m so… horribly sorry that I have to do this.” Ms. Garcia took a deep breath and sat down at the Vice Principal’s chair and shuffled the paperwork in front of her — a dark blue file with Joyce’s name and student I.D. number on the front. 

“As far as the school is concerned, you and James are solely to blame here since we have no real jurisdiction over the Byers boy anymore. The Principal is considering charging him with trespassing, but that’s as far as he can take it.

“As for you two, the school board had to be consulted on the punishment since this was an… unusual circumstance, what with it being the end of the year and all. Normally, it’s a three-day suspension which would go on your permanent file for fighting on school property —”

“But I wasn’t fighting, Ms. Garcia,” Joyce pleaded, a last-ditch effort before her sentence was imposed upon her. 

Ms. Garcia held up her hand. 

“I know that Joyce, but this is beyond debate now. It’s what the school board has decided. Which brings me to why Principal Jones has asked me to speak to you this morning. Even though they can’t issue a suspension, they have still decided to put a note on your file, which normally isn't a big deal. I tried advocating on your behalf but… it’s because of that note the school board had to formally withdraw your scholarship to Herron, effective this morning.” 

Ms. Garcia paused here to let it sink in for Joyce and give her a moment before she continued. 

“I’ve also been asked to assign you some cleanup duty, so please report to the art room before the end of the day, okay? I’ll leave you a list of tasks to be done.”

There was a subdued look on the teacher’s face as she finished giving one of her favorite students the bad news, but Joyce didn’t react, completely blindsided by it all.

After a moment, Ms. Garcia asked, “Joyce, do you understand what I’ve said here?”

Joyce nodded, slowly, too in shock to do anything else. 

“Do you have any questions?”

She shook her head, no. Joyce could feel the weight of it all creeping up on her. She needed to get out of that room — ASAP. 

The walls were starting to close in. She couldn’t breathe.

“If you want to talk, cry, scream, whatever -- I’m here for you. But if not… you’re free to go,” Ms. Garcia lamented, already knowing which option Joyce would take just by looking at her. The poor girl was squirming in her seat, looking like she was fighting back a tsunami of tears. 

“Thank you,” was all Joyce could get out as she ran out the door toward the front office, feeling like she was drowning until she saw him waiting for her. Hopper was sitting in a chair when she rounded the corner, and he perked up when he saw her. 

“Phew! Glad to get that over with,” he sighed and stood, opening the office door for Joyce and waving to a scandalized Ms. Driscoll and the other office staff. “Sayonara, suckers!”

“What did you get?” Joyce asked him, catching her breath and suddenly feeling strangely numb.

“Chalkboard cleanup duty and yet another black mark on my permanent record,  _ in lieu of suspension _ ,” Hopper rolled his eyes and wiggled his fingers in the air as if he were talking about the boogeyman. “Oh, goody. What about you?”

“Same.” Joyce gulped. “I have to clean up the art room for Ms. Garcia.”

“So? Why’d you look like the dog died?”

Joyce shrugged, staring off into the distance down the hall as she made her way back to her locker to put her bag away and head to homeroom. She didn’t really feel like explaining to Hopper right then why the black mark on her record was such a big deal. She wasn’t even sure she had fully processed the news yet herself.

The last day of school meant classes were merely a suggestion for most of the seniors. Thankfully, the afternoon passed by on a more quiet note and after the last class of the day, Bonnie and Clyde of ’65 teamed up once more before tackling their punishment. Between that and all the whispers and shady looks she got that morning, Joyce was ready to run and never look back, even if it meant leaving high school on a sour note. She met Hopper at his locker at three, impatient to get their chores over and done with so they could go home and start putting the past behind them. He grabbed his jacket out of the otherwise empty locker and slammed the door shut for the last time just as she walked up.

“Jesus, how’d you clean your locker out so fast?” she asked, knowing full-well what it looked like before and that he was lazier than a dog on a front porch in summer. She wouldn’t be surprised if he just dumped it all in the nearest garbage can.

“I checked outta here in April, chicklette,” Hopper said with a knowing smirk, tapping his forehead as they walked. "Gotta think ahead."

Joyce looked amused for half a second, but then her face darkened. Two of Lonnie’s friends were loitering outside the cafeteria entrance from them. The shortest one, Joey Nichols leered at her from across the hall. 

“Hey Joyce, wanna hitch a ride with me after school today?” He nudged his lanky buddy, Sandy, who was choking on a laugh. “I heard you like to go _fast._ ”

“Excuse me?” Joyce’s mouth dropped open, and Hopper spun to face the little twerp.

“Wanna repeat what you just said?” he asked, crossing the hall in short time, stooping down to get in Nichols' little weasel face. Sandy took a good ten steps back and watched from the sidelines, wanting nothing to do with it.

“Oh, heya Jim. Didn’t see ya there…” Nichols shriveled into himself as Hopper towered over him, an imposing form next to his short stature. 

“What were you asking my girl?” Hopper growled.

“Your girl?” he peeped, quickly backtracking. “I didn’t know you were going together, I swear! Lonnie just said that—”

“What did Lonnie say?” Joyce asked, her arms crossed, getting in his face now too.

Nichols shook his head violently, his lips sealed. “Nothin’. Never mind.”

Hopper raised a fist at the shorter guy. 

“Get the fuck outta here, Joey.” 

A gaggle of junior girls watched the exchange from their side of the hall, covering their mouths and laughing before Joyce glared at them too, and they hurried away, their cackles echoing down the hall.

“C’mon,” Hopper grabbed her by the shoulders and navigated her down the hall.

“Where are we going now?” she asked. 

“Getting this nightmare over with. It’ll go by faster if you help me first. We’ll be outta here by five at the latest, I promise.”

But Hopper underestimated just how many classrooms there were. 

By the time they had clapped all the erasers, boxed up the chalk, and wiped down the blackboards, it was quarter to five, and they still had to tackle the art room. Both were covered in chalk dust, feeling annoyed with each other, and ready to call it a day — a lackluster end to their entire high school career. By that time, the halls were a ghost town save for a lone straggler or two: an old friend who waved; a teacher that looked horrified to see them in the halls so late on the last day of school. The Janitor, Mr. Svensen yelled at Hopper for riding his cleaning cart like a scooter down the halls.

Ms. Garcia wasn’t in her studio when they arrived. Joyce let out an audible sigh of relief when she saw the teacher had already left for the day, and had left a list and a handwritten note set aside for Joyce on her desk. She didn’t read it and instead, stuffed the letter in her pocket before Hopper could see. 

For the first half of the to-do list, Joyce was mostly quiet, only speaking up to give Hopper direction for what art supplies belonged to which cupboard. It bothered him to see the dark clouds billowing around her, but she wouldn’t tell him what was so wrong. Instinct told him to tease her until she gave in and talked to him, but he could tell she wasn’t in the mood, so he let her stew in silence as they made their way around the room, Joyce becoming more and more aggravated as they went.

When she moved to the darkroom, he followed close behind, ready to help her as best he could without getting in her way. He’d never been in the darkroom before — the red light threw him off at first before she switched it to the full lights. He could tell something was making her angry as she rinsed containers and organized the chemicals, but bless his heart, he still hadn’t put two and two together. Joyce slammed the box she carried with her down on the counter and started loading it up with cylinders and beakers, each piece of glass threatening to smash as she loaded the box. That’s when he decided to speak up.

“Everything okay there, Groucho Marx?” 

He thought she might brush him off again, but this time her bottom lip trembled, and he stepped forward towards her as she braced herself against the sink.

“Why do I get the feeling that we live in a shittier version of _Peyton Place_? It’s like, one wrong move and they all turn on you. I know for a fact everyone else out there has done way worse. Well... maybe not everyone,” she said, thinking about Bob the Brain. Or mousy little Marissa.

“I know you don’t give a shit about yours, but I worked hard to maintain my reputation,” Joyce continued, dejected. “I busted my ass all year to keep my grades up and win that scholarship. I volunteered for Pep Club, student council, yearbook committee! For once in my life, I felt like maybe I could really be someone, make something of myself… and now I lose it all in one fell swoop because of Lonnie Byers? How is any of that fair?”

“It’s not,” he said simply, smart enough to let her vent without asking questions. 

“You and Lonnie got into fistfights on the regular before all of this. How many suspensions did you get for that?”

Hopper thought about it. “Just with Lonnie? Only one. Last year, when he tried sucker-punching me from behind in the cafeteria but got Benny sitting down instead. We all got it for that one.”

“And Bobby Reynolds cheated on Sally Linkletter with her cousin from Bloomington…  _ and _ he got her pregnant!” Joyce rattled off the recent school scandals, counting off her fingers. “Everyone knows Kathy Meyers steals her mom’s diet pills and sells them behind the portables at lunch to make a quick buck off the other girls -- Jill Stevens even passed out from them in gym class last month! Oh and Connie Beavers? Went all the way with pretty much the entire varsity team this year... but no one ever talks about any of that!” Joyce shook her head as Hopper raised his brows in silence. “All you and I did was kiss _after_ I broke up with Lonnie!  _ He’s _ the one who started this!  _ You _ egged him on! So why the hell am  _ I _ catching all the fallout from this?”

Hopper shrugged. “Maybe because no one expects it from you?”

“Why? Because I’m a goody-two-shoes?” she blurted, eyebrows raised in challenge, red in the face. 

“No…” Hopper scoffed, unconvincing, trying desperately to change gears before she blew a gasket. “But who gives a shit what they think? You’ll probably never see most of these people ever again. Remember? You’re moving to the city, going to art school, leaving me behind in our shitty little _Peyton Place_ —” He said it as a joke, but he didn’t realize…

Her face fell instantly, and the tears came hot and fast as she threw herself into his arms. 

“Woah, hey, what is it? What’s the matter?” he asked, bewildered at her sudden mood swing.

But she still wouldn’t say, and he didn’t know what else to do but hold her tight while she sobbed into his tee-shirt, stroking her hair and letting her cry. When her tears subsided a long moment later, she sniffed and wiped her eyes on the edge of his shirt sleeve and finally caved. 

“I’m not going to art school anymore,” Joyce told him, miserable. “They took the scholarship away and gave it to the runner up this morning, the second the fight went on my permanent record. Ms. Garcia said it was a formality, and I guess she tried to pull some strings with Jones not to make it a big deal, but it  _ was _ a big deal... My whole future just changed in a blink of an eye, all because I had a hot head with Lonnie — I can’t believe it. I screwed everything up. Royally!” 

Her face scrunched up as more tears fell.

“No,” Hopper said and looked her in the eye. “You didn’t screw up. This isn’t your fault this happened, Joyce, it’s just bad fucking luck. If anything, it’s my fault. I’m the one that threw punches, not you. No, hey no more tears. We’ll figure it out. If you really wanna go to art school, we can work on it together, okay? Maybe not this year, but we can save up and… you can go next year.”

Joyce stopped crying to look up at him, her eyes as big as saucers.  _ Did he really mean that?  _

“Okay,” she sniffed, still clutching at the fabric of his shirt. “Next year.”

He tilted her chin up the rest of the way to give her a gentle kiss, salty and wet from her tears. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmured against her lips with an easy smile. Then he pulled away and looked around them, trying to lighten the mood for her. “I can’t believe I didn’t know this place was here this whole time. Dark, quiet. Perfect make-out spot…” 

Joyce’s tears turned to giggles, and she let him kiss her again before she pushed him off.

“Come on, dummy, let’s finish up. I wanna go home. We can make-out there,” Joyce said, her sorrows lifting already.

She finally got the courage to read Ms. Garcia’s letter later that week. It was short and sweet, words of encouragement that Joyce would undoubtedly cherish for a long time, with a special note at the end, one only she would understand. 

_ “Even when it feels like the end of the world… Keep going. _

_ Never give up. _

**_They shut me up in Prose — E.D._ ** _ ” _

The letter was signed “Carmen,” and it was worth so much more to Joyce than a silly high school diploma.

Commencements seemed like a total waste of time by that point. Joyce and Hopper knew they had all their credits to graduate and would get their diplomas whether they showed up or not. There was nothing more to celebrate, and certainly no need to walk across the stage to  _ Pomp and Circumstance _ in front of prying eyes. Both were just eager to turn the page, looking forward to leaving this chapter behind them. 

Then, Joyce worked herself up into a small frenzy the night before convocation and told Karen she was going to skip it. But at the last minute, feeling remorse for missing such a huge moment in their lives, and to appease their respective parents, Joyce called Hopper up the next morning, saying that she would only go if he did. 

He relented, and they showed up fashionably late to the ceremony. They joined the crowd, the Hoppers standing towards the back and Annette sneaking to the front to snap photos as the two little lovebirds fixed their mortarboards and climbed over their peers in their gowns to find their seats on the football field; two chairs, side by side in the H’s, smack dab in the middle of all the other graduates. 

Later, as they walked across the stage and accepted their diplomas, a strange feeling overcame Joyce again. The shadows of adulthood crept upon them, bringing an abrupt ending to their childhood and all the uncertainty for the future. Their entire world had slowly started to turn upside down over the last week, and now it felt like an impossible force they couldn't fight back against. 

She knew there was no such thing as stopping time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They shut me up in Prose –  
> As when a little Girl  
> They put me in the Closet –  
> Because they liked me “still” –
> 
> Still! Could themself have peeped –  
> And seen my Brain – go round –  
> They might as wise have lodged a Bird  
> For Treason – in the Pound –
> 
> Himself has but to will  
> And easy as a Star  
> Look down upon Captivity –  
> And laugh – No more have I –
> 
> **\- Emily Dickinson**


	8. Chapter 8

**Joyce bounced back from the slap on her wrist and the disastrous end to her high school senior year with a grace that even Audrey Hepburn would envy.**

She swiftly embraced a newfound _laissez-faire_ outlook on life, choosing to look through rose-colored glasses, living for the moment instead of focusing on the giant mess she left behind her at Hawkins High. The moping lasted less than a week in total, and the sting of losing the scholarship wore off faster than anyone expected. Her ankle healed up, and even the black eye faded quickly. Lonnie became a faded memory too; the brief time spent with him both a loss and painful lesson wrapped up in one. Joyce was relieved to hear he'd ditched town the day after prom, headed to the big city all by his lonesome, and hadn't been seen around Hawkins since. 

Hopper was almost certainly the reason for the sudden change in Joyce's attitude. Feeling the weight of her lost-scholarship on his shoulders, he took his duty as her boyfriend _very_ seriously. He did his very best to distract her whenever she started worrying again. Whether it was about her open-ended future or the troubled state of the world or even something rude someone said to her once in seventh grade. Some fixations were harder to distract her from than others… Still, he tried his damned best to keep her busy -- fishing the Tippecanoe; double dates at the Hawk; a camp-out at his grandpa's old hunting cabin in the woods outside of town.

Karen occasionally needed help planning the wedding, too, and Joyce happily obliged her with that, spending what little time away from Hopper she had with the Bride-to-be. Joyce wasn't _quite_ a bridesmaid since Karen had to put her sister and new sister-in-law, and her cousins in the wedding party instead, but she was thrilled to play Karen's Girl Friday all the same. In turn, she let Karen fill her head with frivolous things — fluffy, pastel visions of bouquets and dresses and veils, reception dinners, and dances. She started to think about her own wedding and the fact that maybe her future could be perfectly content raising a family in Hawkins. As Karen liked to remind her regularly, there was nothing wrong with _that_. 

One afternoon, Joyce had tagged along with Karen to Kokomo to put a deposit down on the wedding cake at the little town bakery. While Karen was up at the counter, being bossy with the head baker, Joyce allowed herself to slowly stroll along the display case to gaze longingly at all the beautiful cakes and their little decorations and toppers, and she admired them each, one by one. One in particular caught her unaware, and Joyce stopped in her tracks to stare at it — a tiny brunette bride with her tall, blond groom at her side. The silly little sugar sculpture made her stomach flip and cheeks burn like she'd never felt before — a sublime feeling she couldn't possibly begin to describe. It came over her in a wave, making her giddy and incredibly happy all at once. It was like all those Ronette songs she'd been singing along to on the radio suddenly made perfect sense.

"What's got you all flustered?" Karen had asked nosily as they walked out of the bakery that day. "You look like Mick Jagger just walked by…"

Joyce could only shrug with a sly smile.

She couldn't quite put her finger on what that feeling was exactly, but she did know she wanted more of it. She floated around town for the next week, practically on cloud nine at the thought of planning her own nuptials someday (soon) — _Mrs. Joyce Hopper has a nice ring to it, don't you think?_

Ever since they'd started dating after grad, things were positively groovy with Hopper. She hoped that Karen's wedding in August would convince him that it was the most logical next step for them, too. She couldn't wait until it was her turn to be the happiest girl in the whole USA, and she crossed her fingers and toes that it would happen sooner than later.

In a strange and twisted way, she got her wish. Even if it was only for the summer.

Annette announced early on in June she planned to spend most of the season at Randy's lakehouse on Lake Michigan, which would leave Joyce unsupervised and fending for herself until the end of August. Joyce had been left alone by her mother before, but never for months like this. At first, she thought Annette had lost her marbles, but thinking about a whole summer without parental supervision, Joyce quickly realized what needed to happen. It didn't take long after her Ma blew her a kiss from Randy's Mercury for Joyce to call up Hopper and ask if he wanted to crash at her place for a quote-unquote "sleepover." 

He was there that evening and never left, and it only took five days of dodging Mr. and Mrs. Hopper until they got the hint that their son wasn't coming home to sleep anymore. Kid-Joyce thought it was great -- a whole summer of sleepovers with her best friend. Teen-Joyce thought her mother had lost her damned mind, leaving her alone, as if she didn't know this would happen. And young-adult-Joyce viewed it as a trial run for the future Mr. & Mrs. Hopper. It was pure, marital bliss without all the pesky obligations. 

The best part of that summer was every happy memory she had with him seemed to come with its own soundtrack. There'd be that one perfect song that when she heard it again at various times throughout her life, it would be like a spell was cast, and it'd all come rushing back in vivid flashes.

Like the time Hopper installed the 8-Track deck in the GTO, and they wore out the tape on _Out of Our Heads_ , driving around Roane county looking for sunshine and good times (and there was plenty of that to go around that summer…) 

Or the jukebox dances with the gang at the diner, cutting a rug under the neon light until well past closing time… 

Listening to their friends play guitar and bongos, singing and carrying-on down on the shores of Lover's Lake — those lazy days when all that mattered was the sun at their backs and sand between their toes… 

Dancing wild and barefoot in the living room at home with their favorite records cranked up for just the two of them…

Waking up to each other in her double bed, blearily welcoming another sunshiney day together. Mr. Fuzzy, the stuffed bear and a Paul McCartney poster, the only two witnesses to perfect mornings; when the sunlight filtered into her bedroom through the sugar maple outside, and Patsy Cline quietly sang her blues on the AM country station…

They were playing house, living in an endless honeymoon day-dream, but yet, there was that odd feeling that was holding Joyce back. Like she knew deep down, it couldn't last forever. 

It was easy for her to ignore the feeling at first, so she did.

"Coke or Cherry?" 

"Hm, gimme both. Mix 'em together." 

"Can you do that?" Joyce asked, eyebrows shooting up as if a lightbulb had just turned on over her head. "Is it even allowed?"

"Guess you're 'bout find out," Hopper replied with a saccharine-sweet country twang, throwing her a teasing smile over the car's hood. "And tell 'em I want five bucks on pump four."

Joyce snapped her gum with a nod and trotted over to the 7-Eleven. She told the attendant _five-on-four_ and then headed straight for the Slurpee machine, waiting her turn in line behind a group of boisterous twelve-year-old boys talking a mile a minute about the carnival on the outskirts of town. Scanning the magazine rack, Joyce pretended she didn't notice them sneaking peeks at her while waiting for their turn, which was when she realized Hop had undone the top two buttons of her blouse on the drive over to the gas station. 

Joyce discreetly put herself back together and finally had the Slurpees and a bag of red licorice in hand, headed up to the counter to pay when something caught her eye that stopped her dead in her tracks — some hot little redhead in short shorts, and a barely-there halter was hitting on her man. 

Her heart sank momentarily, having flashbacks to Lonnie until she remembered who she was dating. Thank heaven, Joyce didn't have to worry about this boyfriend like she did with the last one. She sighed and put her items up on the counter to be rung up, but still didn't take her eyes off the scene unfolding outside.

When the redhead turned to lean up against the car, Joyce snorted back a laugh. 

Chrissy Carpenter. _Of course._ She must've just walked out of the beauty parlor across the street and saw Hopper pumping gas and went over to show off her new 'do. 

Joyce didn't know what Hopper had ever seen in someone like Chrissy. That girl was like a cat that desperately wanted your attention and would do anything to get it… until you gave it to her. It had been, what? a month and a half since Chrissy had told Hopper not to bother calling her (for the third time). And now here she was again…

Chrissy was getting closer and closer to him now, touching the car first and then his bicep. She tossed her fresh auburn waves to and fro as she spoke, trying to get him to look at her. Hopper just stared at the gas pump and shook his head ever so slightly, trying to move out of Chrissy's grasp without stopping what he was doing. 

Joyce watched the scene unfold from inside the store while she paid for the Slurpees and the gas, and she felt a tickle of amusement. It was especially hilarious because she didn't feel a lick of jealousy from what she was witnessing. Chrissy and Hopper might've been an item at one point, but it was evident from his body language he wanted nothing to do with her now.

Joyce popped out of the 7-Eleven and bounced over to the GTO just in time to hear Chrissy ask him, "So, are you going to be at the fireworks tonight?"

An unmistakable look of relief came over Hopper when he noticed Joyce had come to his rescue. 

Joyce smirked and handed him his drink, taking a sip of her own and then chewing on the straw as she greeted her competition cheerily. 

"Hi, Chrissy! Love the hair. Very Ann-Margret." 

"Oh. Hi, Joyce. Thanks." Chrissy's disappointment was plain as day. "Sooo… you two are really a thing now, huh?"

"Mhmm, you betcha!" 

Joyce took the wad of bubblegum out of her mouth, stuck it on the side of her cup, and, with the cement step's height advantage, tiptoed to kiss Hopper. She practically stuck her tongue down his throat in the process to make a point, announcing it not just to Chrissy Carpenter, but the entire parking lot too. 

_Let all of Hawkins know, 'Lil Joycie and Jimmy H. are all grow'd up and officially-official!_

The preteen boys getting on their bikes whistled and cheered them on, while a mother covered her children's eyes, aghast by the indecent display. Two skeevy old men nudged each other and watched. Chrissy made a noise in her throat like she was gasping and choking at the same time. 

Joyce finally pulled away with a grin for a flustered Hopper and turned to see the other girl's mouth drop open. Joyce popped the bubblegum back in her mouth with a satisfied chew as Chrissy stormed off in a huff. 

"Nice seeing you!" Her smile was a thousand watts as she watched the younger girl retreat. Then she called out after her with a wave, "Bye now!"

Watching Chrissy scurry off made Joyce both relieved and thankful it had been his ex and not hers they had run into. Lord knows, Lonnie would not be so easily dismissed... 

Hopper put the gas nozzle back, still looking at his girlfriend, dumbstruck. "I kept telling her I was dating you now, but she didn't believe me…. said that she'd know about it if it were true."

"Well, I'd say she knows now," Joyce shrugged, pulling him back in for a more chaste kiss this time. 

"Yeah, and so does the whole damn town," he mumbled against her lips.

  


Laughter and screams filled the balmy night air, and the familiar scent of heat coming off the grass, mixed with popcorn, funnel cakes, and other deep-fried delights carried on the breeze. A dazzling display of neon lights pushed back the darkness surrounding Hawkins that night. Joyce had never seen the carnival so jammed packed before, not once in the fifteen years she'd be coming to watch the fireworks. It looked like the double-date night she and Karen had planned with the boys to celebrate the fourth of July had turned into a date with the whole damn county and then some. 

They were backed up against the Haunted Mansion — three levels of TERROR and FUN — waiting for their snacks and watching waves of people line up at the rides and games along the midway. The line for the funhouse went past the tilt-a-whirl on the other side, and they watched the groups of teens running, screaming and laughing, as they came out the other side. A witch laughed behind them, the animatronic beckoning them closer to the spooky entrance. 

"This is _so_ weird."

"What?" Joyce turned to Karen as she nibbled on a corndog, trying not to burn her mouth, while she juggled her lemonade and a teddy bear that Hop had won her in her arms. 

Karen pointed at Joyce and then Hopper, who was paying the man at the concession stand. 

"This. You two. Being together. I mean, it makes sense on paper, but seeing it in action is like watching a side-show or something. It's just... odd!" She turned to her fiance for confirmation. "Isn't it, Ted?"

Ted, who was picking at Karen's cotton candy, nodded. "Like seeing Rocky and Bullwinkle on a date."

Hopper choked back a laugh, not about to admit Ted was being funny. Joyce pursed her lips.

"Hey, we're not a side-show!" Joyce leaned back into her boyfriend and tilted her head up to look up at him, upside-down. "But he's definitely my Bullwinkle."

He wasn't even paying attention, tapping her shoulder, and he spoke between bites. "Let's go on that ride next!" 

" _Again?_ " Joyce whined, cementing her in the role of Rocky.

"Yup." Hopper gulped down hot dog number one of two.

"Looks like you have your hands full with this one," Karen smirked and patted Ted's shoulder as if he were a prized pedigree. "Ted doesn't like those kinds of rides, do you Ted?"

"Well, ah…" Ted started and then took a long sip of lemonade.

Karen continued, "You know, I'd like one of those little bears that Jim got Joyce before the night's over."

"Okay, dear." Ted was a man defeated.

A face they recognized rounded the corner and passed them with her usual clique in tow, hot on the trail of a group of frat boys from Indiana State. Joyce clucked her tongue at the sight.

"Looks like Debbie is trolling for arm candy tonight. Do you think she knows that skirt rides up in the back? Maybe I should tell her…"

"Do you have a death wish?" Karen giggled. "Of course, she knows." 

"Cripes, you two are catty," Hopper interjected, working on corndog, part two.

Joyce shook her head, sipped at her drink, and blinked, wide-eyed and innocent. 

"Nuh-uh, not me. Just Karen."

"You're just realizing this now? It's like you don't even know me at all, Jim Hopper," Karen scoffed, and they all laughed, Ted included.

"Hey, do you think we have enough tickets to go on the carousel swings again?" Joyce piped up.

Hopper groaned and turned to his one ally against the girls. "No more swings… _Tilt-a-Whirl!_ Whaddya-say Ted, old buddy, old pal?" 

Karen handed Ted her cotton candy and purse, shoving it at him and flicked her bangs out of her eyes, with an expectant look.

"I think I'd like to go on the ferris wheel next." 

Ted exchanged an eye-roll with Hopper above his fiancee's head.

"If that is what m' lady desires." 

"She does." Karen grabbed his arm and started pulling him with a satisfied smirk. Joyce checked her watch. 

"It's half an hour to the fireworks," she reminded them. "Meet us there?"

"Sure thing," Karen said over her shoulder as they walked off toward the other end of the fairgrounds.

"Tilt-a-Whirl?" 

Joyce tossed her trash in the nearest can and repositioned the teddy bear in her arms before turning to her relentless boyfriend and wiped a spot of mustard off the scruff of a beard he was desperately trying to grow.

"Yes, Tilt-a-Whirl." she grabbed his hand, flashing a grin. "Oh, wait. Look, the crowd cleared up on this one. Let's go here first, then we can go on your ride."

Hopper dug his feet into the dirt like an overgrown child. 

"No way," he shook his head. "I hate those things."

"What? Fun houses? Tough cookies, I like 'em!" Joyce pulled, but he remained a stick in the mud. 

"Bully for you. I'm not going. Nope." Hopper shook his head again, this time slowly. "You can go, I'll wait here."

Joyce squeezed his hand. 

"I think you'll like this one," she said, an eyebrow lifting to entice him. "Trust me."

He gave in, rolling his eyes in defeat as she led him to the entrance where the witch was still cackling. They gave the attendant their tickets and stepped inside, hand-in-hand.

The entrance was small, and a fake wrought iron gate opened and closed in front of them, a gaping maw inviting them to enter if they dare, one patron at a time. Joyce snuck in close behind Hopper, pressing up against him, so they didn't get separated, and he tightened his grip on her hand as the gate closed behind them with barely an inch to spare. Another door opened and shut ahead — this one rolling back to reveal the haunted tunnels they had to go through to get to the second level. A cool mist sprayed out from behind a casket covered in cobwebs, and Joyce shivered when the cold humidity dampened her sunkissed skin and left her with goosebumps. 

Hopper was still ahead of her, and he led her through the tunnels under a dim blue light, through the fake creepy-crawlies and zombies and overgrown vines. There was something admirable about the way he was clutching at her hand, yet bravely leading her through the dark. It was evident he was a little bit scared, but Joyce could tell by the way he held himself that his top priority was still making sure she was okay. 

She was used to Hopper treating her like one of the boys. When they were little, he used to protect her — when Lonnie or Benny would pull her pigtails or shove her in the mud, or kick her out of the treehouse just for being a girl — but as they got older, Joyce proved that she could hold her own and wouldn't let him stand up for her anymore, even if he wanted to. Hopper had reluctantly taken a step back to let her fight her own battles, and she didn't realize how much she missed his protective streak until just now, as he held her hand, guiding them through fake cobwebs and graves and monsters. As they made their way cautiously through the tunnels, following the red arrows on the floor every ten feet, she smiled at his back in the dark until her cheeks ached.

They finally emerged from the "haunted" tunnels into a small room made to look like an old Victorian parlor abandoned for a hundred years. Thunder boomed from the sound system, and lightning flashed through the fake windows next to where a skeleton was rocking wildly in a chair, lit up by the strobe. Hopper flinched at the sight, and Joyce gave his hand a tiny squeeze, while she tried her best to stifle a laugh. A circular staircase lit up ahead, and they continued on. 

"This is so bunk, Horowitz," Hopper muttered back down to her over his shoulder as he climbed the staircase made to look rickety and old like it might give way at any second. "I can't believe you convinced me to do this."

Joyce slapped at his backside and teetered up the stairs after him until he stopped dead in his tracks.

The top of the staircase revealed a long and disorienting hall, which narrowed toward a mirrored wall at the very end, giving the illusion it went on forever and ever. Doors along the moving, tilted floor opened and shut on their own, revealing terrifying occupants: Frankenstein's monster being shocked to life; a green-skinned witch casting a spell over a boiling cauldron; Dracula entrancing a beautiful raven-haired victim. Joyce knew it was all an illusion, nothing more than smoke and mirrors — the proportions were meant to be off to give you an awful, sick feeling, but the look on Hopper's face told her he wasn't thinking about it that way. He stood still, holding onto the staircase's hand railing for dear life, looking determined, annoyed, nauseous, and scared at the same time.

"Have I told you, I _hate_ funhouses?" he gulped and looked pleadingly down at Joyce. " _Why_ is the floor moving?"

"Because it's spooky and haunted!" She pushed past his frozen form, still holding his hand, and she took the lead. "C'mon, you big scairdy-cat."

Wind howled and the frightening animatronics each added their own sound effects to the scene. Hopper stayed hot on Joyce's tail and followed her footsteps as she maneuvered the heaving floor like a boat on open water. When they got to the mirrored-end of the hallway without incident, Hopper let out a big sigh. Joyce didn't stop, though, and she quickly turned left, bringing them into the Hall of Mirrors, finally slamming on the brakes as she realized she was about to run them head-on into themselves. Hopper steadied her on her feet and then groaned at the sign that welcomed them into the maze. Joyce just smiled at their distorted reflections and turned to him. 

_"And now for something we hope you'll really like…_ " she said, in her best Rocky J. Squirrel voice.

Joyce pulled at Hopper like he was a statue, letting go of his hand when he didn't budge at first. He finally shuffled his feet behind her, and she waved him on, speeding up ahead, ducking to the right, hoping he'd follow. She led them into a false nook — a tiny triangular room made to confuse, astound and amaze as the mirrors and their reflections went on and on, towards infinity. He walked past where she had turned, and Joyce reached out to tug at his shirt, pulling him into the nook with her, letting his weight press her against the mirror. She gazed up at him, a pert smile on her lips.

The lights in the mirror maze flashed a rainbow display of colors, and he looked around at their never-ending reflections before looking back down at her. Joyce's hazel eyes teased him in the dark, inviting him in. Hopper bent down to kiss her, watching all his reflections do the same out of the corner of his eyes — a million other Hopper's mimicking his movement as his hands slipped down to her waist and then up under her red tee shirt. Hopper let out a low growl deep in the back of his throat. He lifted Joyce up easily, leaning into her, letting the mirror do most of the hard work while she wrapped her bare legs around him.

There was a scream below them — one that wasn't pre-recorded — and it made them put a pause the heavy petting session. Joyce unwrapped herself from him and dropped to the ground with a satisfied little smirk.

"Someone's coming," she stated the obvious. 

"So?" he asked, panting a little, quirking a brow as if to ask: _since when do you care?_ He bit his bottom lip and swooped down for another kiss.

Joyce shook her head and pulled back, giggling, before running off again, leaving him there.

"Hey!" he shouted after her. "Un- _acceptable_! _Joyce_!"

The giggles turned to full-on laughter as she swiftly moved through the mirrors, holding her hands out to navigate the shadows between the flashes of neon lights, to ensure she didn't take a wrong turn into a wall or a glass pane. She could hear Hopper behind her, muttering obscenities to himself, cursing her name, and occasionally she saw him in the mirrors, stumbling into a wall as he got all turned around. She slowed down, knowing she'd have at least a minute before he caught up. As she turned the corner, the next arrow appeared on the last mirror, leading her up another set of stairs and out into the night air on the third story balcony at the front of the funhouse. 

From up here, Joyce could see the whole fair and even part of Hawkins, the town lights holding up the star-spangled velvet night. She took a deep breath, riding the high coursing through her veins and waited for her boyfriend to figure out the maze and find her. 

Scanning the crowd below, her eyes fell on a familiar tall, dark, and somewhat menacing figure and her heart slowly crept up into her throat. 

Lonnie strolled through the carnival entrance with Ray, Dan, and Lewis trailing not far behind. A couple of rowdy teen girls, who couldn't have been older than Joyce was, were hanging off Lewis and Dan's every word. She didn't recognize the clingers, but it was easy to tell by how they dressed that they came from the city. Lonnie was looking around, taking in the attractions and talking with Ray. He took a long drag from his rolled cigarette when he caught her watching him from the balcony, almost like he knew she was there. 

The gig was up. Like the ghouls in the Haunted Mansion, Lonnie's face morphed from jovial to sad, angry to amused in a split second. 

Joyce's heart plunged to the pit of her stomach. Lonnie tossed the rest of the cigarette on the ground with a funny little smile and stomped on it before waving his friends over to the funhouse entrance, disappearing under the balcony. Hopper jumped out behind her a second later, giving her a startle. 

"Jesus, I thought you left me in there. Why'd you run away? I was just starting to have fun." He grinned and bent down to nibble her ear, pressing her into the railing where she felt his… _excitement_ growing.

Joyce put her hands on his chest to slow him down.

"So was I," she sighed, her mood ruined. "Lonnie's here with the boys."

Hopper straightened up and frowned, scanning the crowds below. "Where?"

"Right there," Joyce pointed. "He just walked into the funhouse."

"Did he see you?"

Joyce nodded, and she didn't have to say another word. 

Hopper took her hand and led her across the balcony, following the red arrows towards the exit down below. They tripped over their feet, down the moving staircase, colliding into each other as they jumped across the spinning tunnel on their way out. At the very end, just as they could see the exit and feel the cool night breeze promising freedom, a sheet-faced ghost on a wire rig flew down towards them, letting out it's pre-recorded shriek. Joyce jumped and let out a yelp as Hopper punched it, knocking the ghoul clean off the line, securing their escape. 

Hopper took Joyce to a quiet corner once they were safe outside, hidden away by a carnival game. He scanned her face, brows knitted with worry.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she took a deep breath.

"You look like you saw a ghost…" He was trying to be cute with her, but Joyce _felt_ like she'd seen one too. The look Lonnie gave her as she stood upon the balcony had sent chills down her spine. 

Hopper brushed her bangs out of her eyes and offered her his hand.

"C'mon, don't worry about him. Let's hit up the sharpshooter game again. I'll win you another teddy bear. Bigger this time!" 

Joyce hesitated, looking back to the funhouse.

"I don't know… Can we just go? He's here, and he looked kinda…" ( _heartbroken, mad, deranged, take your pick…_ ) "I don't want any trouble tonight. Karen and Ted'll understand."

At first, it seemed like Hopper might try to convince her to stay, but when he saw how shaken she was, he put his arm around her instead and guided her towards the exit.

"Okay, but I'm not letting you miss the fireworks. We can take the car and park. I know just the perfect spot, up by the quarry."

Joyce nodded and took one last look at the haunted funhouse, searching for the ghost of her ex inside. Maybe Lonnie could run into Debbie and forget all about Joyce again? She only hoped that'd be the case, especially after seeing that look he'd given her. With a little sigh, Joyce made a wish that Lonnie could find someone who made him as happy as Hop made her so he could move on, too. 

Leaving her haunted past behind at the fair, Joyce let Hopper escort her to the car, feeling safer than ever in his arms. 

Independence day rolled on by, and the allowance Annette had left Joyce to run the house while she was away had suddenly and _"mysteriously"_ dried up. After their adventure-filled date night at the carnival, Hopper was also beginning to feel the pinch to his wallet, but since he couldn't exactly ask his dad for help (unless he wanted Jack's foot wedged firmly up his ass), he resolved to follow through with his not-a-plan plan and get a job, the easiest way he knew how.

He dragged Joyce to the diner that Friday afternoon to speak to Mr. Hammond about working the busy weekend shifts. He figured it'd be easy for him to learn to work the grill with his friend Benny to show him the ropes, and everyone already knew Joyce could make a mean chocolate malt. Benny Sr. didn't need too much convincing, and they started that same night, busting their butts for $1.25 an hour plus tips.

Benny's was organized chaos on a Friday night, and the two of them moved like a well-oiled machine, gliding around the kitchen and bar like a dancefloor to keep the drinks and fries flowing for half of Hawkins. It surprised them how well they worked together, especially when the place was jam-packed. 

However, when there was downtime, they found new and exciting ways to butt heads…

Hopper'd get in trouble for scorching the burgers, distracted by how Joyce looked in her uniform hot pants. Or for threatening to beat up some rude patrons who were also distracted and couldn't understand how to look without touching. 

Joyce loved to tease and push Hopper's buttons, playing his most hated songs on the jukebox and singing along obnoxiously when they were all alone. _I Got You, Babe_ made him cover his ears and hide in the walk-in freezer until she promised to stop. _Every. Single. Time._

Then there was the world's longest-running game of Jinx (Hop still owed her a coke for that one.) 

Regardless of the frequency, their little public tiffs were just that — never about anything too serious, and they also never lasted very long. It was all fun and games that they played to drive each other up the wall. It was like they only fought as an excuse to kiss and make up, though they'd both deny it till the day they died. But if there was a lot of silly arguing going on in public, it was a different story behind closed doors… 

_"I think I'm falling for you, Hop."_

She half-whispered, half-mumbled the words into his chest as they sat, and parked at the quarry after he brought up the fact they still needed to christen the GTO's back seat. Fireworks from the fairgrounds lit them up in patriotic shades of blues and reds as she fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, not meeting his gaze.

"And it kinda scares me how much I'm falling…"

"Scares you? In a good way..?" he asked dubiously.

"Yes, of course, in a good way… Really good. _Crazy_ good. I just think that maybe…" Joyce paused and sighed, a barely-there tremble creeping into her voice. "I want our first time together to be special. Like, if we wait for the right moment, maybe it won't be something either of us has to regret?"

Hopper was patient as a saint after that and never ever rushed her, even though she imagined it was killing him inside. He didn't beg her like Lonnie did, coercing her into something she wasn't comfortable with. And he certainly never forced himself on her like that slime Charlie Burnett did in the tenth grade. Hopper was _the_ perfect gentleman, which made it so much harder for Joyce to stick to her guns and not give in to temptation. There was something about delaying the gratification with him, though — she knew it'd be worth the wait. 

Waiting for that special moment didn't stop them from exploring other avenues of their relationship, though, and even if the GTO had yet to be properly christened, it certainly saw its fair share of action. The rules were: any time, anywhere, any place… They fumbled in the backseat towards ecstasy, equal sparring partners in a professional level game of foreplay, getting creative when needed to avoid breaking Joyce's one little rule. Hopper became ravenous for her, but she insisted on teasing the main course, letting him sample her _amuse-bouche_ instead. They were an insatiable, inseparable pair. It wasn't long before they were regularly showing up late to work or double dates with lipstick on his collar and hickeys on her neck, earning them a reputation around town. His friends had even started calling him " _Don't-Stop-Hop"_ much to Joyce's utter mortification — the guys would never let her live that one down!

They should've capitalized on it, done _something_ productive with all that pent up energy… if only they could keep their hands to themselves.

"How's that popsicle working out for ya?" His voice carried over to her across the yard, but it didn't catch her attention right away. 

It was their first day off from the diner and hotter than hell (a record-breaker, the radio said), so they'd spent the day being as lazy and half-naked as possible.

Joyce and Hopper's morning — aka late afternoon to the rest of the world — was spent waking up slowly, entwined in each other, comfy in her bed until the heat got unbearable. Then they moved out to the backyard where he found the old kiddie pool they used to play in years ago at the back of the shed and filled it up with the hose just so they could dip their feet in and cool off. 

She suntanned. He napped. She'd wake him up to turn over before he burned. He brought her iced tea and popsicles from the icebox. If it weren't so flippin' hot, it would've been a perfect summer's day.

As they desperately waited for the sun to set, Joyce was lounging on a towel in the shade, flipping through the latest Cosmopolitan, completely unaware that Hopper was staring at her. She was wearing her new bikini — a little white number she crocheted that didn't seem to cover very much — and was slowly sucking on a Bomb pop, enthralled by whichever salacious cover story she was reading: 

Either **"World's Greatest Lover — and what it's like to be seduced by him"** _(yeah, hello? Joyce was already dating him.)_ Or maybe it was: " **The New Pill that promises to make women more responsive"** _(to what?)_

"Earth to Joyce!" Hopper leaned into her field of view with a cheeky grin. 

"Huh?" 

Her tongue stopped it's sultry little dance up and down the ol' red-white-and-blue before recognizing the look he was giving her. She closed her mouth around the top of the frozen treat and wiggled her eyebrows with her own little grin.

He licked his lips and gestured to her stomach. 

"You uh, have a little mess going on there." 

Bright purple popsicle juice ran down her curves toward her belly button and bikini bottoms, threatening to ruin the swimsuit. She closed the Cosmo and put it down in the grass.

"Oops… Maybe you could help me clean that up?"

Hopper's eyes darted to the house instinctively, before she reminded him they were alone, and the old maple they sat under would keep them well hidden from prying eyes. 

Joyce said his name and looked over her sunglasses at him, leaning against the tree.

"I'm getting sticky," she said, feeling bold. When she bit her bottom lip, he came running. 

Turned out the rumors were true — Jim Hopper was exceptionally talented with his tongue, in more ways than one.

Those hot summer nights in July, Joyce finally felt what it meant to be alive. She could be anything, say anything, do anything she wanted for the first time in her life because… she was young, wild, and free, and Hop was by her side.

It was the same feeling she had the first time they smoked a joint behind the diner after they finished their shift late one Saturday night. They passed it back and forth in the parking lot, just as the sun threatened to peek over the horizon. At first, she was paranoid they'd get caught, that someone would see them and rat. Or his dad would show up to take them away in handcuffs ( _"To teach you two idiots a lesson," he'd say._ ) Eventually, she mellowed out under Hop's gentle reassurance that it was no big deal. He held her hand, fingers laced, and Joyce leaned on his shoulder as he navigated them home. They took the long way, driving slow and steady along the rows of corn, fog settling over the fields as the sky swirled in shades of cotton candy twilight, and the telephone wires sizzled overhead. 

_That was it._

Right there in Hopper's pretty blue Pontiac, she had died and gone to heaven. Joyce wanted to save that feeling and keep it with her forever, but it was like trying to catch lightning in a bottle as it turned out… So she gave chase.

When they did stupid shit, like trespass in the back meadows of the old Hess Farm at midnight to camp out and gaze up at the stars just to feel small, it made her feel brave.

When they kissed on a bed of wild violets, she felt free under the fading light of the milky way.

And when Hopper pulled her in close and traced circles on the small of her back, mumbling sweet-nothings against the top of her head, she felt love. _True_ love. 

She knew that it wasn't just a silly schoolgirl crush or the weird-fascination kind of puppy-love like she had with Lonnie. _No-sir-ee Bob_ — Jim Hopper was looking to be the real McCoy. It frightened her how deep he ran through her, and so suddenly too. If you'd have told Joyce a year earlier this would happen, that she'd be falling in love with Jim Hopper, she'd have laughed in your face or maybe ran screaming, but looking at it from the other side now, she couldn't imagine it happening any other way. 

Still, there was that nagging feeling deep down inside, pulling at her. Tugging at her hem. Telling her to slow down. Reminding her that nothing could last forever. It lingered on the horizon like a storm threatens to blow in on the wind and ruin a perfectly lovely sunny day.

The door slammed, and Joyce, who was cooking bacon for their dinner, jumped at the sudden sound. He'd been gone when she woke up just after two, but here he was now at ten to five, storming into her kitchen like a bull looking for its matador. 

"Whatdya know, Joe?" Joyce mumbled, the last half of a cigarette sparking around her lips as she spoke.

"Nothing," Hopper growled behind her. Joyce took the smoke out of her mouth and turned to look at him.

"I missed you when I woke up. Where'd you go?" Joyce asked him with a pleasant lilt in her voice, trying to counteract his mood. 

"Across the street," he grumbled. He threw a small stack of envelopes and papers on the table. 

"Oh, is that the mail? I keep forgetting to get that." 

"Yeah," he said with a sigh. "It's the mail."

Joyce spoke, turning back to the stove, carefully flipping the bacon and ashing her cigarette into the sink at the same time. 

"Can you put it over by the phone, so I can tell Ma how much Randy needs to pay next time she calls?"

"Sure," he muttered and did just that, stopping by the garbage can on the way and slamming the lid on that too.

Dinner was served, and as they sat down on the couch to eat their BLTs, the TV was already on, the news just starting. The lead-in was more of the usual: troops and tension in Vietnam and what America might have to do to stop it.

"Do we have to watch this shit while we're eating?" Hopper growled through a mouthful of food, glaring at the screen.

"No," Joyce replied quietly. She reached for the remote and changed the channel to something lighter. 

Hopper chewed, brow furrowed, and Joyce watched him, ignoring her own meal for a second. He was clearly upset. She hadn't seen him this mad… maybe ever.

"Wanna talk about it?" she asked, cautiously. 

"No," was his curt reply. 

He didn't talk for the rest of dinner and barely spoke a word when they cleaned up. He was off in his own little pissed-off world, and Joyce simply wasn't invited that evening. That was fine because she'd been neglecting her hobbies lately and had just got her hands on some new charcoal she wanted to try out before they had to go to work. She took her sketchpad out and stared at him, squiggling an outline in the paper's corner, taking him in, feature by feature. 

A strong jaw. Perfect, kissable lips. A smile that curled at the corners and a nose that crinkled when he belly laughed… and those steady, starry eyes in the deepest shade of blue she'd ever seen.

Hopper must've felt her eyes on him when he glanced over to her from the program that had captured his attention, NASA footage of the last Gemini launch and their preparations for the next one. Joyce was confident he didn't understand the science behind it so much as he just thought that space was pretty far-out. She muffled a giggle.

"What?" he asked, a hint of annoyance from dinner leftover on his face.

"Nothin'." Joyce pressed her lips together, hiding her smile. Her pencil danced above the page.

"What're you doing?"

"Nothin'," she repeated, this time drawing the word out in a tease. 

"Can't be nothing if you're smirking like that," he said. "What's so funny?"

Joyce shook her head, refusing to say.

"Spill it, Horowitz. Do I have lettuce in my teeth or something? What?" 

The thought tumbled from her mouth before she could stop herself. 

"I love you, Jim Hopper."

She snapped her mouth shut when she realized what she'd said, and then she watched Hopper closely. His cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn't show any further signs of shock at her words. 

"You do?" he finally asked, voice cracking.

Joyce felt like running upstairs to shout it from her window, ready to let the whole world know — _yes, yes, yes! I love this man!!_ — but she stayed where she was under his inscrutable gaze.

"Yeah, I do." The smile finally broke on her face, and he matched it, dimple for dimple. That made her giggle. 

"Well," he said, taking a deep breath and patting the spot next to him on the couch. "Why don't you come over here and prove it?"

Her tummy did a somersault. She was ready for love, but was she prepared to take that next step? Right now? With half an hour until they had to be at the diner to start their shift?

He shook his head and waved her over as if reading her mind, reassuring that he didn't want what she thought he wanted.

"Lemme see what you're working on."

And so she did, cuddled up next to him, she let him flip through her notepad to see what she had done that afternoon — All the doodles, sketches of wildflowers and practiced crosshatch and clips of summertime poems here and there. 

As he admired her work, Joyce realized that he didn't say it back, and surprisingly, it didn't hurt as bad as she thought it would. Maybe it was because the black curse of his mood had lifted with those three little words, just like a charm, but it didn't seem to bother her one bit that he didn't return them. He'd let it slip once before anyway when they were still kids after his grandma died, so she knew that he loved her in some way or another. But that was then, and this was now, and they weren't kids anymore. It carried a different meaning here on the cusp of adulthood, deep in a summer-love, and it was okay in her mind if he couldn't say it back just yet. Her best friend had always been a stubborn creature, and she knew he'd say it only when he was good and ready. 

All that mattered was that Joyce felt it and was now confident enough to say it aloud to him, even by accident. Even without it being reciprocated. Besides, she could tell just by his kiss alone that deep down, he felt it too.

The summer rolled on like distant thunder, and Joyce waited for the lightning to strike. The Wheeler wedding was all planned and set for a month's time, and the invitation on the refrigerator reminded her daily that the big day was coming. She let it spark her imagination for her own future and didn't even bother to hide it from Hopper anymore. It was all she could think about, dream about, and talk about, especially as the days went on, and life with him became a part of her reality. 

_"When we get married,"_ or _"When we have a place of our own..."_ became common phrases for her. But, if it worried or bothered Hopper, he never said a thing.

Joyce looked forward to the same old routine, custom-built just for the two of them: working weekend nights and staying up late after their shift, listening to records until the early morning hours. Partying on their nights off with friends, sleeping through the regular world. When he taught her to roll joints, it was their measly offering, praying to the gods of Freedom. Her portable record player became their altar; rock n' roll, their hymns. 

Life with Hop was all Joyce had ever hoped a true romance could be and more, and as far as she was concerned, they could've stayed like that forever. Belonging to no one but the night and each other. Spending nearly every waking minute of July together in perfect sync as if it had been this way their whole lives and the lives they lived before that, too. 

The summer of '65 would always be Joyce's happy place. The warm, hazy recollections and snapshot memories forever imprinted on the back of her mind. Fuzzy and faded, like a Super 8 film, flickering into existence, they'd play on a loop whenever she needed a little reminder of better times — times when the world seemed a little smaller, and a hell of a lot less scary. 

Looking back on it twenty years later, it would become apparent to Joyce that she had her head firmly stuck in the sand that entire summer. But while she was living it, she was love-struck and blind to the real world. Oblivious to anything else, but him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pop-culture references in this chapter (besides all the call backs to ST3): Audrey Hepburn, [His Girl Friday](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/His_Girl_Friday), The Rolling Stones (of course lol), The Beach Boys, The Monkees, Patsy Cline ❤︎, Neil Diamond, [Ann-Margret](https://youtu.be/tWogtk1hB58), [ Rocky & Bullwinkle cartoons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgJh0yP6Kxw), Winona's role in Dracula, Sonny & Cher, Jim & Pam being cute on the Office, Sarah McLachlan's 3rd album (I'm Canadian, can you tell?), [Bomb Pops!](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bomb_Pop), [Gemini 5](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gemini_5) and a whole lot of Lana Del Rey lyrics.
> 
> Did you know? The Slurpee we know and love today was [licensed by 7-Eleven stores in 1965](https://www.eater.com/drinks/2016/10/20/13309514/slurpee-7-11-slushie-icee-history) and released the summer of 1966 (I fudged the year on purpose for the sake of this story.) It was such a popular treat, they even had hit singles on the radio to promote it! The first two flavors available were... Cherry and Coca-Cola!
> 
> Also, the issue of Cosmopolitan that Joyce is reading is [considered a significant issue in the history of the magazine.](https://www.gettyimages.ca/detail/news-photo/in-july-1965-cosmopolitan-turned-from-an-antiquated-general-news-photo/53400424)
> 
> This chapter just wanted to go on and on forever... I had 101 ideas for cute Joyce and Hopper living-together scenes, but I had to draw the line somewhere! I might post "deleted scenes" later on as one-shots because... damnit I just want to see them happy lol 
> 
> Lemme know what you think, and as always, thanks for reading! Xox


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